Dragonfly Prince
by Mockingbyrd's Tune
Summary: Pixie Tale. Being curious has its disadvantages. Now Casey's in a place inhabited by pixies, catering to a hungry dragon; and it seems all the other humans are savages. Except for Ivan… the bossy, volatile guy with no intention of helping her get home.
1. Casey's Journal & The Dragonfly Express

Prologue: Casey's Journal

"Day 4 Observations: The number of dragonflies today has tripled from what I recorded on Saturday. I've been lying in the grass singing for approximately nine minutes, according to my watch. That's ten minutes faster than yesterday. It's like they know I'll be here and they keep bringing more friends. Maybe I'm the dragonfly concert of the year.

I've been trying to identify one or two, but the moment I pinpoint a single one to watch, he (he?) charges at me and flies away. I want to say I've gotten used to it now – that direct approach to my face with fierce buzzing – but my heart still races. I'm such a coward.

I'm resting on my back, the rising sun behind me. The transparent rainbow wings of the insects race overhead, gathering courage to fly lower and lower. I know they're curious about me. I'm just in awe.

Grandpa says dragonflies don't like to be bothered. I asked him how he knew. He just shrugged. I wonder if he knows how many come into his fields."

"Day 6 Observations: I had the worst scare. It's stupid now that I think about it, but I was just in the moment. I was lying on the grass, which seemed strangely sticky from the dew somehow, something I generally haven't noticed.

The first crop of dragonflies came whizzing by. (Are they called a crop? I don't know. Maybe a flight. They were in formation, as usual.) I stayed very still, humming softly. I even sung a quiet 'hello, again.' Then the dive-bombing games began. I almost wanted to laugh this time, but continued to sing my songs. I've been rather proud of how I've gotten used to their tactics to scare me.

Then the next crop came and they began their morning dances in the early sunlight. It was just as mesmerizing as the days before. The glittering opalescent pinions reflected the light into greens, indigos, and golden ripples above me. I didn't notice when the third group joined in. Suddenly, it was like looking through a thin veil of multicolored mist. I was entranced, and keeping time with my song, partook in the display, feeling as though I was a part of a secret ritual, a special moment.

Then it happened. Another army of them came. There were so many, I held my breath and couldn't sing. What had looked like a veil of mist now took on dimension, like a thick glittering blanket. The sun's morning rays were muted. At least it seemed that way. This was a new development.

Within seconds, the dragonflies began to descend, coming closer and closer to my place on the floor of the earth. My heart began to beat faster. Fear rose up in me. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but if you had been beneath that swarm of bugs it would have scared you, too. Still, I remained as unmoving as I could and closed my eyes, delighting in their curiosity, wondering how close to me they would fly. It was then that their hum reached my ears. It was there before, I'm sure; but it was magnified and low. It grew louder than my heartbeat pounding in my ears. I opened my eyes. I don't know if it was a trick of the sunlight or not, but I saw odd rippling streaks of light and tons of dragonflies inches from my face. Layers upon layers.

I started up. It was just a reaction. It was like I couldn't take anymore. I screamed, okay? I admit it. They won. The dragonflies won."

"Day 13: It's been a week since the incident. I've slept in everyday; but this morning I had to come make friends with them again. I don't want to leave Grandpa and Grandma's without saying goodbye. But I didn't hide away in the grass like before. I just stood in my spot to sing a sort-of farewell. Surprisingly, they came and circled around me, like I was forgiven. I didn't keep still this time. A girl has to show she's not going to be bullied. I walked around slowly, singing as loudly as I dared, and they didn't seem to mind.

Tomorrow's my last day. I'm determined to see if they'll congregate around me again. It was surreal, but this time I'll differentiate between what is my imagination and what is a swarm of dragonflies."

Chapter 1: The Dragonfly Express

"They're back again, Thon!" Ivan pushed a sleepy snake from his neck. "What is this? Five in three months? Kapyn's not going to fit in that cave for long if this keeps up." Shafts of light in brilliant hues reflected from the dark walls of the cave only meters away. Ivan made a flying jump into the stagnant mire, making a series of squish-squashing sounds as he rolled himself in the grime of the muddy pool. His begrimed clothes slapped against his dirt-encrusted body as he lifted himself out, his bare feet creating sucking noises as he followed the wet path toward the opening. He didn't hesitate as a cloud of speeding dragonflies zoomed past him in the cave's cool corridor.

"Hello? Who are you? And do you speak English?" he called out softly.

No one answered, but that didn't faze him. "Light!" he said in the same low voice, and a bevy of insects with lambent glow encircled his head in seconds.

There, on the floor, near the aperture was a huddled mass of girl. Not very old. Old enough to be a strange playmate for dragonflies, though. A small wave of relief came over him. She was better able to take care of herself than the last one, if she got over the shock.

"You're alright," he told her and reached out his hand to help her to standing.

She didn't take it. "This isn't real," she explained matter-of-factly.

"No, it's a dream. You can still get up, though.". He was used to this. It was best to respond to what they wanted to believe and let reality catch up later.

"I'm trying to wake myself. I'm in the field on my Grandpa's farm."

He kept his face from registering annoyance. "Of course you are, but if you don't stand up and move, you're going to wish you had."

"Why?"

"Because you're about to dream of a terrible reptile who is just finishing his nap and becomes hungry on smelling fresh human."

"That makes no sense, but I have the vague impression I really will see a reptile. I'm not very fond of them."

"You're a sensible one. Come on." He grabbed her elbow and helped her to her feet.

"Do you live here?" she asked, as she began to rub off the mud he'd left on her arm. It was just the consistency of a thick paste.

"In this cave? No."

"What are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you an alien?"

He looked down at himself, noting the immense amount of caked mud and dirt, and smirked. "Ah." They were walking out of the cave and into the daylight. The lumins around him flew away.

"Strange," she added aloud. "I thought those bugs around your head were antennas." She crinkled her nose. "You're just dirty."

"I think I preferred the first reaction."

"Sorry. I guess that wasn't very polite. I'll try again: Hi, I'm – oh, wait, I want to have a new name in this dream. I'm Gwynna… no, I'm Athela."

"Okay, Ethel."

"No, let me come up with a better name…"

He just shook his head. "You're being idiotic."

"That's rich, coming from someone who looks like a drowned- Aaaaaaack! It's a snake! Oh, kill it, kill it!"

"Meet Thon. It's short for python." He stopped as the serpent began to wrap itself around his leg and move up his body until its head came to rest atop the filthy locks matted to frame his dirt-streaked face.

"Oh, this dream can't get any worse."

"Think how I feel," the filthy one remarked. "I have to deal with you until…whenever."

"Whenever I wake up, you mean?"

"Do you remember how you got here?" he asked as he walked on.

She viewed her surroundings, wondering why she was still following this snake-draped guy. "Sort of. I was watching dragonflies in the grass behind my Grandparents'-,"

"You made friends with the dragonflies and they brought you here."

"Right, and you make friends with the pythons in hopes that they won't make you lunch."

"He's never made me lunch. Thon's not much of a cook. Likes his meat raw." His guest shivered, hardly able to take her eyes off Thon's coils.

"I suppose I should laugh, but I feel sick."

"Normal reaction. If you feel the need to throw up, that's perfectly normal, as well. But, keep moving. We have to be out of the path of the cave-"

The girl sat down in a heap on the muddy floor of the forest, her head spinning wildly. She closed her eyes as the sounds receded around her. "Goodbye, then," she tried to whisper calmly. "I think I am waking up again."

"Oh, no you don't. Not here." She felt the flaking, dried arm of mud wrap around her middle and opened her eyes again. She would have screamed as the face of the python peered around at her, but all went black. The last thing she recalled was the smoky scent of something burning.

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A/N: 'Lumin' isn't actually a word. It's the name of the type of bug in this story.


	2. Nighttime Welcome

Chapter 2: Nighttime Welcome

'Did I put my journal in the top section of my suitcase? I need to remember to read it to Laura when I get home.' Casey's sleep was fading from her head, but the alarm clock hadn't gone off yet. She was looking forward to being home again and spending time with her older sister before the summer break was over, when Laura would go back to college. She was wondering to herself whether she should add a few lines about the strange dream she'd had, but was persuaded by the warmth to lie just where she was a few more minutes. Just a few more minutes of that splendid luxurious coziness. Oh, but had she remembered to set the alarm? Oh, no! She wasn't completely packed yet! She sat up quickly, ready to fling herself off the bed in haste, when her head hit a board above with a resounding 'Wham!' "Ohhhh!" she groaned in the throes of the throbbing which commenced, wondering what she had hit and why it was so dark.

Gingerly feeling for her Grandma's side table lamp, her hands touched rough wood. Her shaking fingertips followed it up, finding that she was sleeping in a groove in a wall. She turned from the niche in which her head had rested and tried to peer through the blanket of darkness around her. Panic rose up in her. She had no idea where she was. Her arms flailed out of their own accord, trying to touch something familiar - anything to give her a better understanding of what was going on.

She pushed away the soft, thin covering she did not remember ever feeling before. "Grandma," she murmured, and hearing her own hollow voice, took in a deep breath and said it louder. "Grandma! Grandma! Where am I?" There was a sound of movement, a crunching of leaves and snapping of twigs.

Casey rolled out onto a dirt floor, still trying to gather her senses. "Grandma? Grandpa? Grandpa! Help me!" Her breath was coming fast, as she sobbed and rocked on the ground, discombobulated and angry. "Hey!" she yelled, irrationally incensed.

A sudden cacophony began without. There were shrill sounds of insects and birds, along with other animals' screechings – animals which she had never heard on the farm. She realized then that she was housed in some sort of enclosure. Slowly she tried to stand up. Was the ceiling low or was it just the darkness that made her think so?

She groped toward a wall and began to trace it. It was made of the same rough wood, the splinters rising as her fingers rubbed the surface for some groove that might be an outlet. The noises were still raucously loud outside, as though the animals were excited by something. A low roar stopped her heart. Was it a lion? It couldn't be a lion. There weren't any lions on her Grandpa's farm! Just then, her wandering hands found a latch; and as she grasped it, light cascaded through the rifts in the wooden hut. She pulled the door open as a large glaring beam of light buzzed into her face.

She lifted her hand to shield her eyes as she demanded, "Get it away! Where's my Grandpa?"

"Poor Ethel. Finally wakes up in the middle of the night." The notion flashed through her mind of the muddy fellow. Could that have been real? Looking under her arm, she saw the familiar figure wearing a shirt that might have been white once, the sleeves rolled back to the elbow and a pair of dark, torn khakis. He was still barefooted. Behind him were other lights and shadows of living things. She couldn't make out much more and stared around her dumbfounded.

"Let's try this again. Ethel, you are not at your Grandpa's. I won't go into the particulars, since you aren't taking things well –,"

"What is that awful stench?"

"It's me; I thank you for noticing. As I was saying, you fainted and have awakened before the daylight."

"It is so dark."

"That is called 'night.' Also, there is no moonlight here, which is why it is best to be asleep," he explained.

"Here? Where?"

"I'll tell you, but first drink this."

She was handed an odd-looking wooden bowl. "What's in it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Poison. We're going to get rid of you once and for all," he remarked dryly. She heard a tittering behind him.

She hesitated. "I'd rather die quickly with less writhing," she said, trying to return the cup.

He pushed it back toward her. "Drink it or I'll force it down."

She feigned to acquiesce then flung the cup and its contents at him. It hit the halo of light-giving lumins around them, causing them to disperse.

He grabbed her arm. "Here's how it works. You could have had a nice nap," he told her, pushing her back toward the hut. "But now, you'll just have to bide your time 'til morning. I'm setting Thon to guard the door. Remember, he's the big snake?" Casey, who had been grappling for the door, struck his side with her fist. It hurt her hand, but he didn't seem to notice. He grabbed her wrists and squeezed them in his hand, pushing her inside. "Thon is going to wrap himself around you," he continued to constrict her hands in the terrible grip, pressing her knuckles together painfully, "until you can't take another breath." She tried to pull away from him, but he held her hands fast. "Then, he'll eat you, starting with your head." Casey felt something touch her scalp and screamed, pulling away in fear. When she realized it had been his other hand, she was already reeling backwards onto the ground inside the shelter. She scrambled to get up as he shut the door.

Finding her way back to the door, she banged on it fiercely. "Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! Let me-!" Her hand found the latch, and it opened without resistance. Feeling foolish for crying over an unlocked door, she took a step forward. Something heavy and unmistakable glided over the toe of her shoe. Her blood turned to ice as the soft sounds of reptile flesh moved across the grass. Thon had truly been set there. She backed into the shelter again and closed the door, pressing her weight against it in pure fear. "Let me out! Let me out!" she began again.

Outside there were no noises, no caws or screeches or anything; but a rhythmic set of flutterings was growing louder and louder inside the cabin. She backed into the center of the room and felt a gentle tickle at her ear. She tried to brush it away, but it was too quick for her.

"Foolish girl. He should have let Kapyn have her," the little voices whispered.

"Let me!"

"Let me!"

"Let us all bite her!"

"Yes, she'll never wake up!"

"He said 'one bite.' Zemlis, to the task." Casey felt a sharp, smarting sting in her neck. She lifted her hand to the spot of pain to slap away the creature. Simultaneously, her legs buckled under her as she succumbed to a stupor. She couldn't feel her limbs, couldn't move at all. Yet, she could hear the flapping of little wings.

"Does she breathe?"

"Yes."

"Quickly, or he will think we are too long in returning."

"One, two, three, four-five, six-seven-eight. Out, Zelphid!"

"Always rules!" muttered the creature. "'Tis no fun at all!"

And the fluttering sounds were gone. She lay on the floor, her mind racing; but with no power to exert over her body whatsoever. "I should have taken the poison," Casey thought to herself.


	3. Pixie Elixir

**A/N: Casey was nicknamed, "Ethel," by Ivan (a.k.a. the grubby guy) when she tried to make up a name for herself in chapter one before she fainted. She mentioned, "Athela," and he decided to call her "Ethel." That's the only name he knows her by, at this point.**

**Questions and critiques are always, always welcome! Sometimes I'm too vague, so take this scribbler to task if my explanations aren't explaining anything.**

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Chapter 3 – Pixie Elixir

Horror could hardly be the word to describe the feeling Casey sustained through the hours. She was paralyzed and didn't know how or why. She couldn't cry out, but had her vision, her hearing and her racing thoughts to torment her. Her eyes slowly became accustomed to the light filtering through the roof. She couldn't turn her head to see anything but the wooden planks above. The structure had been built in layers. The first layer of boards seemed to be rotting beneath the others. She tried to scan other parts of the hut in the periphery of her vision.

She heard his footfalls before she was even aware she was listening for them. "How is our prisoner this morning, eh?" he asked, outside the door of the hut. "Here's a fat one. Yes, you're welcome." She realized he was talking to the snake.

The door was opening. The light streamed in with a cloud of dust as he walked through. She couldn't see him at first, but knew he was eyeing her.

"Uncomfortable night, I imagine," he observed. "You're folded like an accordion. Will you straighten out, I wonder."

Casey heard him set something down. He came to her side and she watched his head bend over her as his arms reached underneath to untangle her limbs. His stringy, yellowish hair hung down over his forehead; the dirt settled in scraggly lines there. He was lifting her to sitting. Though she couldn't feel it, she saw her legs being stretched out in front of her. Then he was dragging her to sit against the wall.

"I've got something to get down you. I think you'll be more cooperative this time." He grinned and she hated him.

"You know," he said, as he clutched the top of her head and managed a wooden bowl with his other hand, "eyes can say more than words. You've got a look that could kill a dragon in flight at the moment." He donned a look of concentration as the bowl rose to Casey's face.

He pulled the bowl away. "There now. Some of that got down your throat, I think." He stared at her. "You're a hard one. Thought it'd be easier, but you've fought worse than the fat, tattooed lady and been more bother than the baby. At least I could carry him around; you're too heavy to be carried."

He whistled to himself and seemed to be waiting for something. After a few moments, Casey watched the bowl return to her face. "We'll see if a bit more doesn't help. I'm not sure how much to give you. I never got this when the pixies bit me the first time."

Casey spit out, "Pixies!" as the potent liquid flowed over her tongue. "You jerk! Owwww!" she said, feeling the warmth of blood increase through her limbs. With it came a pulse of pain through her legs and back.

"There you are. See, no harm done. Well, other than a few muscle cramps and a headache for a few days." He was still holding her up, and the benevolence in his gaze drew on more of Casey's fury. "You are the most disgusting, smelly, vomitous vermin," she directed at him, glaring.

"You don't know how nice it is to find you speak English. Nice alliteration there, too, only you're the one who looks a bit vomitous. That shirt will need to be washed or the nectar will attract some highly unwanted bugs and things."

Casey looked down at the thick gooey substance on her shirt, which was sticking to her neck and hair. The sight threw her into a different mode, that of pitying herself. Her nose was running; her eyes were wet with tears from the fumes of the contents of the bowl. "I want to go home," she said dully.

"Can't. Might as well make the best of it. I'm Ivan. I've been here for less than a year, I think. Not very certain. I stopped counting."

"I want to go home," Casey repeated, trying to push down the lump in her throat. She suddenly felt like a five-year-old, full of distrust and ready to go off into a fit of rage again.

"The dragonflies' portal is the only way back. Trust me, I know; I've tried every possible way."

It was becoming more and more ridiculous. His answers made no sense, but she played along. "Well, where do I find the dragonflies? I'll make them take me back."

"They aren't here, Ethel. They've gone back through the portal in Kapyn's cave."

She was too involved with her primary worry to ask him who Kapyn was or correct him about her name. "Then what do I do?"

"Get used to it." He shrugged. "I did."

She couldn't restrain the look of revulsion she gave him. "I could never get used to smelling like you do."

"You will if you want to live. Kapyn – that's the dragon - will smell you if you get anywhere near his cave again. In fact, you've got that sweet smell on a bit strong."

Casey sniffed. "How can you smell anything over this goop on me and your own eau de manure?"

"Just can. You get used to living-,"

"Like an animal. Smelling like an animal. Please, tell me there is something civilized to eat here. My stomach is in knots, I'm so hungry." Thankfully, he brought forth a larger bowl from behind him, which had been out of her vision when he'd entered the hut. It held different varieties of vegetation, some looked to be fruit. "Yay," she responded, taking it and perusing its offerings. "No grub worms."

"I can bring you worms, if that's what you prefer."

Her withering stare shot over the bowl as she popped a piece of fruit into her mouth. She ate the repast quickly. With only empty shells and peelings left, she asked. "Is there any bread?"

He scoffed. "Why, let me just jog down to the corner store for a loaf. White or wheat? Oops, they're all out. Oh, I know! I'll just make it for you. We can ask Kapyn to cook it, since no fire is allowed."

"I was just asking. You're so sarcastic."

"It keeps me sane. Otherwise I'd be a whiny-," he stopped short, obviously deciding not to continue the thought aloud. "The first thing you need is this." He pulled a jacket out of a pile of grimy articles in a corner of the hut.

"I'm not putting that on."

"You can't go outside without covering up the nectar. I'm going to take you to the pond to wash it off."

"It smells foul." Casey lifted up the jacket. "Oh, it reeks. I can't do it."

For a moment, he looked like he was going to make her put it on. She was contemplating whether she could possibly plug her nose for long enough to make it to the pond, when he abruptly exclaimed, "Fine!" With that, he picked up the large wooden bowl, swung open the door, and walked out. She followed him to the opening, saw the python and quickly shut it again.

After that, she had a good cry, only interrupted a few minutes later by the door reopening. She looked up anxiously, as Ivan thumped the bowl of black liquid down at her feet. It sloshed half its contents on the ground. She looked up at him in confusion, unaware that her cheeks were lined with dirt from her tears.

"Take a handful of the mud," he commanded, pointing at the bowl. "Rub it on your shirt and neck to get the nectar off."

"Why?"

His jaw tightened. "Because you don't want to be eating, sleeping, and playing with a bunch of poisonous, stinging little insects, do you? Also, this is my shelter, and you will not be staying in it tonight. Once you're cleaned up, I can show you where you'll be staying. Or I can just shove you out the door at nightfall. Which will it be?"

Casey lifted some of the sludge from the bowl, and closed her eyes in distaste. She slopped it onto her neck. "Ugh! This smells putrid! It – it smells like you."

"You're always so complimentary. Now rub it in."

"Rub it-?"

"Yes, like this." He reached down and began to scrub her neck with the mud.

She pulled away. "Don't touch me. I'll do it, I'll do it." She tried to be very thorough, feeling the nectar's thickness become more and more diluted as she scrubbed. When she had worked the mud into her buttoned-down shirt, she looked up to find him tracing the area where she had been forced-fed the nectar. He was kicking up the dirt with his toes and making cake-like mounds of the sticky remnants there.

"It's strong stuff," she observed.

"Yeah, but it works." He grabbed up the smaller bowl and dumped the remaining mud on top of it. Standing above her, he announced, "From now on, Ethel, I would prefer not to argue with you over everything. It would be best if you just did what I say."

Casey smirked. So like a man to say that. Her best answer was to give none at all. As she followed him out of the hut into the hazy light of the day, it occurred to her that he was being less cruel than before. He was still derisive and brusque, but had ceased in the bullying tactics and threats. She was silently grateful to have him at his most agreeable, and didn't wish to irritate him by not taking his attempts to shepherd her seriously.

They were on an elevated platform overlooking clumps of green foliage everywhere. The full, elephantine leaves to her right caught her attention when they moved slightly. It was then that she perceived the creatures of the place were watching her.


	4. Scar Story

Chapter 4: Scar Story

Ivan didn't remark on the eavesdroppers around them, but said, "The best way to begin is to tell you my story. So, here it is: I arrived here by dragonfly after I fell asleep on a hiking trail. When I came to, I was staring at a dragon's snout. I thought it was a joke and kicked it. That's when I got this." He pulled back the hair from the side of his face. A portion of his cheek and ear was red and wrinkly. "He was too sleepy to work up a full breath of fire, so I got out before the cave really heated up.

"Unlike you, there was no one to greet me and show me the ropes. I got in all kinds of trouble – which, if you're smart, you'll take note that Kapyn's cave is not a place to explore, the gorge is extremely tricky and not advisable as a drinking source, and the nighttime is not a great time to be prowling about." Standing on the overlook outside his hut, he pointed to the cave some distance behind his residence and a distant ribbon threading its way through the thick vegetation which Casey assumed to be the gorge.

"And the worse mistake I ended up making was using my knife to catch a small animal for food the first morning. That's when I met the pixies. I was bit twice. I have no idea what happened the first few hours; but when the paralysis finally left me, I had this." He was unbuttoning his shirt.

"Another scar?" Casey said, and added, "Really, you don't have to show me."

"It's just on my side. Are you squeamish about scars?"

"No, I'm squeamish about filth."

"Oh, well, you'll get over it."

"No, I won't," Casey argued under her breath, and was grateful that he had decided against continuing with his scar exhibit.

"The only drinkable water available is in the dragon's cave." He eyed her soberly and repeated it like a flight attendant. "Kapyn's cave has the water, but you risk waking him to get to it."

"What do you drink then?"

"Mostly the juices from the fruits. The pixies also transport the water, and bring it to a public reservoir. They allow the forest animals to drink from it. We can draw water there, too, as long as you only take the amount they allot to you." His tone held a modicum of chagrin.

"As far as the mud goes, it helps not to be clean. The smell wakes Kapyn and irritates the animals." Casey looked down at her soiled shirt, feeling proud of her acclimation, when Ivan commented, "You may think you have blended in with that smudge there, but really you smell very sweet and – like fresh human. That will have to be dealt with sooner rather than later." The fleeting expression in Ivan's eye ruffled her more than the thought of donning more stinky mud. He was enjoying her discomfort far too much.

"Well, being constantly bathed in sweat and yuck has to be unhealthy," she asserted.

He shrugged. "It's far less compromising than being hunted by a dragon night and day."

"So, why isn't he hunting me now?"

"Ah, yes," Ivan smiled eagerly. "That is the next bit of information – very important information – that we need to cover." His business-like tone was getting old fast. "Each of us in this forest has a job. The pixies carry the water and care for the plants, et cetera. The monkeys fetch fruits from the trees. The birds bring seeds and things. The tigers, jaguars, and leopards hunt the meat for Kapyn. And…you get the gist."

"I'm sure Kapyn appreciates this," remarked Casey, hardly believing her ears.

Ivan ignored her. "Kapyn likes to eat, but he likes to sleep more. At least, in the past he did. He's been eating more lately because those irritating dragonflies keep waking him up. Ahem," Ivan cleared his throat importantly, and it occurred to Casey that though he looked older because of his dirt-embedded wrinkles, he couldn't be more than a couple of years ahead of her. "As I was saying, Kapyn needs food. You will have the job of delivering it to him when he wakes."

"I will what? No I won't!" rebelled Casey. She was nodding her head and shaking her finger at him. "You're not giving me that job. You've been doing that job, haven't you? Oh, it's not happening! I will not-," Ivan had turned his back to her and was leaving the hill. She quickly followed behind him, repeating, "I won't. Kapyn will have to starve. I'm not doing it!"

"I understand your reluctance," he spoke with a superior tone, "but it will be necessary since I cannot do that and work our escape."

He halted as he heard her steps cease behind him. Casey's eyes were big with the terror of the task, but they were also filled with hope. "You are planning our escape? You mean we don't have to go by dragonfly?"

"Oh, the dragonflies are just the entry method. When they enter, the portal – I call it that – stays open until they fly out again. But that is when Kapyn is awake, and you can't very well do the dance of the seven veils to get past that hungry booger when he's in bonfire mode." Casey was taking in every word eagerly, when Ivan paused and stared straight into her eyes. "We're a team now."

"What about the others?"

"What others?" He said, as he began to walk again.

She quickened her pace to walk beside him. "The lady and the baby."

"Oh." Ivan looked uneasy. "This is a jungle, you realize."

Casey gasped as the thought entered her head. "Please, oh please, tell me that baby didn't get eaten."

"Oh, the baby crawled back through the portal. Maybe a little charred on the feet, but otherwise made it, as far as I know. That's when I got this scar." Now Ivan was lifting up the back of his shirt.

"Really, I believe you. I don't need to see the – Yeah, that's pretty bad."

"One of the hardest to heal from." Casey grimaced in sympathy, while Ivan dropped his shirt back down, put his hands to his hips, and stuck out his chest. It was everything she could do to keep from laughing. 'Really,' she told herself, 'he's been through a lot, and he's so skinny, his ribs stick out; but his attitude – his pride in his scars – is just too funny.'

"So, tomorrow we'll scope out the cave together."

"I thought you said not to go in the cave."

"I did. Don't go into the cave unless you know what you're doing. Now, let me show you where you can sleep tonight. It's a bit of a walk." And it was. Casey was out of breath and feeling sick by the time they reached it.

It was a stone enclosure, not quite deep enough to be considered a cave. Around it was a fence of misshapen pieces of wood. "This is your home away from home. You won't be bothered here. The wildlife knows to stay out."

"That fence keeps the animals out?" she asked dubiously.

"No, but this place is off-limits for them; the pixies see to that. They also use a special tree sap to drive away the non-complying species. Remember, this is your side. The pixies' entry is on the other side of this rock. If you even walk around to their side, they will consider it an invasion. They are very sensitive about sharing the quarters around their domicile. Consider it an act of great hospitality and don't make them angry."

"I don't really know what pixies are. Are they like fai-," He clamped a very dirty hand over her mouth. "Ah! Why did you do that?" Casey began spitting vehemently. "Oh, that is so gross!"

He grabbed her upper arm and drew his mouth to her ear, as she continued to wipe her mouth. "Never – Never! – use that word."

"What word?"

"Fairies," he whispered ever so quietly. "They hate it. They detest it. For years they have been mistaken for them, and _those _are creatures of fancy and pixies are not. Respect their beliefs, or you will regret it." He pulled away from her abruptly.

"Okay! So, you know where you're staying; you have all the etiquette down. Our plans are set for tomorrow. And the last item on our checklist today?" He held out his hand to her in a manner to show that she should answer.

Casey sighed. "Take a mud bath."

"You can call it a beauty bath, if it helps. That's what the fat one called it, although there was absolutely no beauty in that. It was more like watching a rolling hippo."

"I'd prefer if you didn't watch me." Casey said, suddenly self-conscious. He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. "You never told me what happened to that lady," observed Casey.

"I'd rather not think about it," answered Ivan. Casey didn't press the subject.


	5. Kapyn

Chapter 5: Kapyn (pronounced Kah-pin)

All the way to the pond, Casey's stomach was queasy. She attributed it to nervousness. It was not her nature to take change well, especially in such an uncivilized environment. The dread she felt as she followed Ivan all the way to the edge of a marshy region only made the gnawing in her stomach worse. Not only was it going to be gruesomely awful to immerse herself into stenchy mud, but they were drawing closer to the cave which Ivan had so thoroughly impressed upon her mind as an extremely dangerous residence.

When he stopped, she scanned the periphery of the wood, beyond the stagnant swamp at her feet, looking for water.

"Do you want me to wait behind a tree or something?" he asked.

"Yes, that would be helpful… but, where's this pond?"

He pointed in front of her as the surface of the mire burped its malodor indecorously. Casey closed her eyes in utter disgust. "You said a pond. You said a _pond_!"

"It's actually not that bad; and you will always want to take a dip before entering the cave as a precautionary measure." He was turning away.

"Where are you going?"

"You said you didn't want me to watch you," he explained.

She stood in the same pose, completely dumbfounded. Ivan, who was on the point of walking away, persuaded, "The mud is warm; and, once you get used to the smell, you'll enjoy it. It's a bit like a spa."

Casey sighed and began unbuttoning her shirt. He halted and stared at her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm-"

"You don't take off anything. You just jump in, clothes and all." He rolled his eyes in disbelief, but the smirk was what set Casey off.

"How am I supposed to know? You said a bath! Do you take a bath with your clothes on?"

"Here I do," he turned to leave again. "But you can omit the socks and shoes."

"Don't go," she requested without looking at him.

"Now what?" he said, turning around.

"Just in case I start to drown or get sucked under..."

"It's not quicksand. It's a little laborious to move around in, but you won't be sucked under."

"Just stay, okay?" she asked, kicking off her shoes and carefully removing her socks.

He sighed. "You're going to have to do this on your own at some point. I won't be around all the time to watch after you – what are you doing now?"

Casey had gingerly stepped over to a vine hanging parallel to the ground and was lapping her socks over it. "I just thought it would be nice to have one thing that was clean."

His expression shifted from incredulity to silent irritation almost imperceptibly. He crossed his arms impatiently as she returned to stand at the edge of the belching slough.

"It's warm, you say?" Casey cautiously reached out with her big toe to test it.

"Yep," he replied close to her ear, pushing her in. She screamed in shock as her legs and arms hit the surface of the sludge with a "splat." The uniformity of the mud slowly gave way and she felt the slimy, thick liquid ooze its way through her clothing and between her fingers and toes.

"Oh. It's horrible," she said, lifting her face toward the canopy of trees above. But there wasn't any time for her to wallow in the grotesqueness of her present state. From the cave came an alarming rumble.

"Whoa. Get out. Get out!" Ivan demanded, reaching for her and grasping her forearm. His foot slid as he tried to pull her up.

A smoky fog billowed from the aperture of the cave, as Casey scrambled to reach the dry land. They could hear a th-whomp, whomping. There was a pattern to it.

"Never mind. Get in! Get in! No time!" Ivan had dived over her head into the marsh. He was still in possession of her arm and yanked her under. Fortunately, Casey had been holding her breath almost the entire time she was in the gurgling pond. As she went down, she could hear her heart thudding in her ears. Ivan was pulling her along and her attempts to keep up with him only seemed to fight against his movements. He let go of her and she pushed to the surface. The sight that met her there caused her heart to drop to her stomach.

A long, thin black beast with purple and gray-tinged scales and claws was moving, snakelike, toward the quagmire. Immediately, Casey ducked her head down, too terrified to move, breathe or think. After what seemed like hours, she felt a hot wave flood over her head and shoulders. One thought alone raced through her brain, 'He's going to cook me like a char-broiled mud pie.'

She stayed down until her lungs began to spasm and the sludge went up her nose, her body instinctively trying to gain a breath. Still, she fought, choking and twisting, to stay down. She didn't have the endurance, though, and popped back up just in time to see the slender, pointed tail of the dragon as he reentered his lair. Trying to smother her coughs with her sodden fists, she jumped as a hand came down on her shoulder.

"You're a lucky girl. He was right above you. Blew smoke over the place you went down. I think he knew you were there." All this was said quietly as Ivan began pulling her toward land. She was still stifling her coughs, the black, viscous fluid of the swamp escaping from her nostrils.

"Come on, we're getting out of here." He had to drag Casey behind him. She couldn't yet gather a full breath. Her gasps came in wheezes; and, once they rounded the bend beyond the cave, she folded over and succumbed to a bout of strenuous hacking that lasted two minutes before Ivan, fearful that Kapyn would return, hauled her away. By the time they reached her shelter, she had vomited on him twice, and was still gasping and hiccupping.

He laid her on a thin mat which had a soft, velvet-like covering. It was similar to what she had slept on the night before. "You are one lucky girl," he repeated. "I've never seen Kapyn let anyone off like that. You should've been toast."

He sat down on the floor beside her pallet, his back to her. She was too concerned with the pains in her chest and the sharp jabs and churning of her gut to notice that he didn't move, as though in a daze, until he slapped his thighs and shook his head again. "I can't believe it." He craned his neck to look at her, his eyes holding a maniacal light. "Wow! It's kind of a high, you know?"

"No," Casey answered dully, her nose stuffed up and her lids closed tightly.

"You'll be okay. Just swallowed a bunch of mud, that's all."

"I'm not okay. I feel awful."

"It'll pass. Hey, you know what? I'll be back. I'm going to see if the pixies will let me bring you water, okay? Right back…" he repeated, as he left the shelter. Casey hardly noticed.

As the day progressed, she got worse and worse. She remembered seeing Ivan's face peering down at her, and hearing the high-pitched, buzzing speeches of pixies. Oh, she was in pain! She was cold, too. Freezing. She closed her eyes in order to endure the burning in her stomach. When she awoke again it was night. The darkness was so thick, she could see nothing. She pushed the blanket off. It was so hot. Her mud-stiffened hair was sticking to her face and neck.

A strange sound met her ear. It was a few minutes before she realized it was her own breathing; it was raspy and as though her mouth was filled with fluid. The churning of her stomach was no duller. It felt like she was being eaten from the inside. She closed her eyes in misery and exhaustion.

Something quick and odd made her lift them again. She realized there was a light somewhere. Though distant, it filled her with hope. She was able to make out the outline of her quarters. She was alone, completely alone. It was dejecting just to know that. Ivan had not stayed with her, and she was so sick. What if she died?

A soft tap seemed to ricochet off the walls. She looked toward the sound. Coming through the fence was Ivan. He moved fluidly. She would have smiled in perfect joy at seeing him if she had not been hurting so much. Ivan hadn't left her! Maybe he was returning with water from the pixies!

"Ivan," she croaked out hoarsely; and just as he raised his hand, the dull glow she'd seen from afar went out. She couldn't sit up and gain the breath to call to him again. She was too weak to wrestle with this knife-like pressure much longer.

Something cool touched her lips. It was sweet and unlike any taste she could have imagined. She reached to grasp the container. Her fingertips touched something that felt like onion skin before the bowl was relinquished into her hands. She drank in gulps; the currents of liquid were like a healing film that covered her burning throat and chest as she swallowed. The pain receded, and she spoke languidly into the darkness, "Thank you." He didn't respond. Her spent body relaxed into the first authentic slumber she'd known in that place.


	6. Culture Shock

Chapter 6: Culture Shock

Off and on she opened her eyes. Sometimes she was greeted by muted daylight, shining over her shallow residence against the rock; sometimes it was pitch blackness. Her head felt swollen and disoriented when she finally gained the strength to awaken fully. The day was in an hour she could not ascertain, since the sun did not appear through the haze of sky above. As she lifted herself slowly from her bed, she noted the dark dots on the floor near the region where her head had rested. The taste of dried blood on the edges of her mouth confirmed what she saw. Why did she have blood in her mouth? What had happened to her?

She walked out to the fence; her body felt shivery and light. She had come through something very taxing, but couldn't account for it. Was it the mud? It must have been! It had to be full of contamination. Why had she listened to Ivan and done that? Then she remembered the dragon, and wondered how she would survive. In her frail condition, she could hardly handle the thought of fighting day in, day out just to live. It was overwhelming!

She heard a familiar fluttering. The sound was frightening because her memory linked it with the terrible occurrence of the sting that had paralyzed her the first night there. Why couldn't it have been a terrible dream, as she had thought then?

Glancing back toward her little niche in the pixies' rock, she noticed an irregular-looking bag on her pallet. She retraced her steps back to the shelter and opened the material, which was soft and filmy. Inside were the halves of three fruits, which had been hollowed out to be used as bowls. Each was filled with a different color of liquid. One was white, like milk; one was frothy orange. The third held a thin, pale peach fluid. She felt no hunger, but picked up the milky substance and touched it to her tongue. It wasn't sweet or bitter. It hardly had any taste at all. Yet, the wetness caused her to realize how thirsty she was. She drank it, and was grateful that it removed the metallic tang of the dried blood. She carefully placed it next to the other two bowls and drew the cover of the delicate material back over it. She simply had no appetite.

Sighing to herself in dissatisfaction, she walked back to the fence. It was a bit of a trek for her recovering body. She leaned on the purplish wood, trying to rest against it. Again came the fluttering sound behind her, but she didn't turn around. It was of little interest to her whether the pixies – if that's really what they were – wanted to play hide and seek. If they didn't wish for her to see them, she was fine with that. In truth, her irritation stemmed from a different source altogether. As she looked out over the landscape, searching for some landmark she might recognize, she thought 'Where is Ivan? Why hasn't he come back?'

"Drink the orange one, Ethel!" came a tiny whisper behind her left ear. She turned and heard to her right, "Yes, drink it!"

The pixies were quick. She merely caught a blurred glimpse of wings as she turned to the second speaker. She slouched in despondency, timidly replying, "I'm just not very hungry or thirsty."

"We know! We know!"

"Twas the nectar. Use only a thistle berry full."

"Only a berry full!" mimicked the second pixie.

"You almost died, Ethel."

"Died!" the other repeated. The echo of the tiny creatures' tinkling laughter hung in midair, just like the reverberations of their wings around her. It was very irksome that every time she tried to find the owner of a voice, the speaker sped away. Her head was already ill-fitted for the game they played.

Ivan's words ran through her mind, _"I'm not sure how much to give you…"_ Had he really almost killed her, giving her that potent nectar? 'Perhaps,' she mused, 'that is why he doesn't come to see me. Perhaps he feels guilty.'

"Where's Ivan?" she asked the pixies.

"He's where he always goes," she heard casually in her left ear.

"Can you tell him to come to me?"

"Why should we?" harrumphed the other.

"Silence, Zifford." Then the voice addressed her, "We will deliver your words to him, but you must drink." In that brief speech, Casey noted the timber of the voice. A female pixie, she was certain. She turned her head to see it and it darted past her gaze.

She sat down next to the covered bowls and lifted out the foamy orange one. It was contained in a green fruit or vegetable shell that was slightly longer and narrower than the other two. She sipped it slowly. It was much more pleasing to the palate, and she found her appetite awaking. Casey was sorry when its contents were no more. She moved to the third drink and tasted it readily. It was sweeter still. Almost too sweet, like a syrup. She could not take in much of it at all, and quickly put it down. Carefully, Casey gathered the material and bowls to remove them from her place of rest. She stretched herself out on it again, tired and hoping for Ivan to appear soon. She wondered whether the pixies had been alluding to the cave as the place Ivan always went.

It seemed he would never come. She fell asleep again waiting. Finally, she heard sounds of leaves rustling beyond the fence. She stood up and looked around curiously. When she saw Ivan, in all his grime-caked glory, her mouth spread into a big grin.

He jumped over the fence, and seeing her, paused as though disbelieving. His returning smile was one of relief. "You really are alive! I thought you were done for two nights ago."

The smile fell from Casey's face. "You mean, you thought I was dead? You left me here thinking I was dead?" Slowly her face pinched into a threatening scowl. "You cold, heartless..." She began in a low, coarse voice, which broke distraughtly. At that moment she knew she could trust no one, no one would be concerned for her, no one would be held accountable for her demise. Her head pounded as the blood rushed to her face, and she knelt down on the ground, having received a blow that affected her physically as well as mentally. She looked up to find him standing above her, his eyes calm. "Don't you care for anyone but yourself?" Her words were spoken softly, but the hurt was evident through them.

He didn't seem offended by her reproofs, but sat down on the ground in front of her. He answered without an inkling of a defensive tone. "This is a different environment. You'll understand the longer you are here. But I will try to explain it." He looked up at the foggy sky and exhaled. "Life is not so assured here. You can't get attached. It will destroy you from the inside if you do." He shrugged. "Take Kapyn's cave, for example: I'm not even sure how many have died in there! I used to hear blood-curdling screams, and it was only because of that that I investigated. Even then, the connection between the return of the dragonflies and a new visitor didn't become apparent to me until much later."

"But you said you came here by dragonfly. How could you not know?"

"I just didn't." Her expression gave him to understand she didn't wholly believe him. "You wouldn't know it either, if I hadn't told you. The only reason I'm still alive is because Kapyn was having a little trouble with his fire-starter that day. It was merely a fluke, a lucky break. And, I'm sorry to say, you seem to have the same miserable luck as I do. You keep overcoming the odds. But you've got to understand: not everyone does. Next time the dragonflies bring someone, it might be that Kapyn torches 'em in an instant. You're going to have to come to grips with that. Also, you need to come to grips with the reality that I may not be here tomorrow." He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

Everything within Casey resisted this explanation. She sat there, stunned at this matter-of-fact outlook on the precariousness of life in that place. She raised her eyes to him sympathetically.

"See here, Ethel," he said, gripping her shoulder with his hand. "I'm glad to see you. I was a bit down yesterday morning thinking you had croaked," he admitted, as though his slight pang of sorrow would be a comfort to her.

"It would have been your fault if I had croaked," she admonished darkly. "The pixies told me it was the nectar. I wasn't supposed to have more than a thistle berry full."

Ivan's smile faded. Clearly, he had not been given this information. "Oh," he merely said, taking the news in. "I am sorry, but you can't blame me. They only said to give you the nectar, not a word about how much." He thought for a moment and began to chuckle. "Probably omitted that important tidbit on purpose, knowing them."

"You think they wanted me to die?"

"Some of them, I don't doubt it. You put on a terrible show that first night. None of the animals much liked you for waking them. Sent for me in a hurry to shut you up. And I wasn't in any mood, either, having missed the dragonflies' return because I'd had to hide you from Kapyn, then drag you back before feeding that lazy, voracious, igniting beast."

"So, you took care of me by having them sting me," she concluded bitterly.

"I merely specified that _one_ do so. They were overeager for the job already." She met his eyes with a withering expression, and he added defensively, "You had to be quieted for your own sake. You were completely berserk! You wouldn't drink the Asander tree root, and that was to help you sleep."

"Did the pixies give you that recipe, too?"

"I've used it before, for the baby. Generally, the pixies give good advice. Unfortunately, there are different family units, and each group goes by different guidelines. You have to know which ones are trustworthy." He paused then added almost to himself, "I have a hard time with that."

The reality of the situation came down on Casey so forcefully that she began to laugh; and finding it very relieving to do so, continued until her guffaws turned hysterical. Then she was sniveling and crying.

"Come on, Ethel," said Ivan, putting an arm around her companionably.

Casey didn't pull away. The feeling of being alone was too weighty for her. She needed that gesture in that moment, and was tremendously surprised to find him give it. The shock of her surroundings, her functionless existence in this place, was something which would take time to settle into. Casey wasn't anywhere near adapting yet.

She dried her eyes and looked up at him gratefully. "Thanks for bringing me the pixie water at night. I remember that at least." Ivan looked perplexed, and laughed uncomfortably. "Um, and my real name is Casey."

"Casey… I'll try to remember that." Her emotions seemed to be going from one extreme to the next. It was almost euphoric to have finally come to some unspoken truce with Ivan.

"Where were you? The cave?" she asked conversationally.

He pulled his arm away. "No."

"The pixies said you were 'where you always go' or something."

"I do go to the cave a lot." He hurriedly offered, "When you get stronger, we'll tour it together. I have a feeling the dragonflies will be making an appearance soon. Their visits have been closer together lately." Casey nodded, desiring to be well, wanting to be working at this most crucial purpose.


	7. Risking It

**A/N: Hazelcloud, Tiger Lily21, and Iliana11, thank you for your reviews and encouragement! Hazelcloud asked such great questions about the last post, I decided to answer them at the end of this chapter. Hope it explains a little more.**

Chapter 7: Risking It

"Our escape" was the phrase they used between them, as though breaking out of a prison. How to get back through the portal was the vortex from which all of their thoughts and actions spun.

Casey put every effort into getting better, but for the first two days was too drained to leave the pixies' rock. Testing herself, with frequent onsets of fatigue, she gradually grew stronger by following Ivan around the vicinity of her dwelling. Yet, it was plain that Ivan wasn't used to having a tagalong.

He would sometimes bring her items of interest. Most of them were forms of indigenous plant life, novel and intriguing. Though it looked the same to her eyes, this green forest was made up of very different species from the types of vegetation she had found at home or on her grandparents' farm. One especial favorite which amused her was a branch with pods attached to it. Some of them had little white 'tongues' hanging out of them, which on closer examination were proven to be bits of soft material. She learned it was from these that the pixies gathered the cloth which covered her bed. The pods themselves were interesting; they unclasped when gently pulled apart, and clasped again when pressed together. She attached one to Ivan's collar playfully. He didn't seem to care, and it was still there when he came to see her the next day.

The mornings she spent alone. Ivan made it clear he needed to do some things on his own, but refused to answer what those things were. He merely responded enigmatically, "Research for our escape." When he was away, she made mental notes of what she wanted to ask him. She was at a loss without her journal. It felt like she'd always written down everything she thought and felt. Her older sister, Laura, had taught her this method of relieving her feelings on paper so that they could read their impressions and experiences to one another. This caused her great frustration, which turned to bleak despair. She learned quickly that any thought of home was not a path down which her mind could easily wander. At first these thoughts dropped in unconsciously, but she soon learned to control them as hours in the new land passed slowly during her recuperation.

It was five days before she was well enough to follow Ivan to the mud pond near Kapyn's cave again. She had wandered among the foliage, collected her own fruits, leaves, and seeds, and even learned the path to the pixies' reservoir; but the journey to the dragon cave, like Ivan's shelter, was a much greater walk. It also required the energy to return –perhaps at a run!

She remembered the last time she'd traversed the path. Her stomach had been tight, and now she knew it had not been due to her nerves. They reached the mud, and Casey was surprised at how serene the area around the dragon's lair seemed to be. She sat next to the quagmire and slowly slid into it. Ivan had not remarked upon her getting in. It was just an unspoken understanding that it would be required to scope out the cave. She held her breath as the warm pool covered her skin in globs of muck. Her eyes went instinctively to the place where she had hung her socks less than a week earlier. Only one of them hung there. She got out of the marsh just as Ivan jumped in, and walked over to inspect the ground, looking for it. It wasn't in plain view. Inspecting the area, she found her shoes, but not the other sock. Perhaps the wind had blown it into the bush behind. This was a doubtful theory, she soon realized, because she'd never felt a single breeze since she'd arrived. She circled around the vine and moved some of the branches away in her search.

"Ivan!" she called to him in a hushed whisper. His head popped up in attention.

"My sock is missing."

He shrugged and went under again. It was at that moment Casey saw something slinking through the mire, right for Ivan.

Habit took hold of her and she let out a high-pitched squeal. Ivan popped up again in an instant. His eyes went to the cave first. Then he looked at her in consternation. "What was that for?" She was jumping up and down, pointing to the movement in front of him and anxiously looking toward the cave at the same time.

His eyes alighted on the visitor in the water, and recognition flooded his face. "It's just Thon, you idiot!" he spoke in a loud whisper.

"Oh," she uttered, feeling ridiculous. When he came out of the pool at length, she saw that the big snake was wrapped around him again. Ivan motioned for her to come closer, but she shook her head, determinedly. He pursed his lips and pushed the snake off his shoulder.

"Go on. She's still not taking to you."

Thon looked at her as though he understood what Ivan had said! The reptile hung his head in dejection and slowly unraveled himself from his friend.

"Well, we know one thing from that scream of yours: Kapyn's really in a deep sleep now. As long as the dragonflies don't make an entrance and interrupt us, I think we're going to get a ton accomplished today." He made for the cave eagerly. Casey could hardly adopt such an attitude. She'd seen the monster that lived there. Kapyn was quick and terrible. She knew of the dragon's capabilities; he was merciless. She approached with utmost caution, trailing a good distance behind Ivan's quick strides into the corridor of the cave.

Ivan had not made it halfway down the tunnel before he stopped short. Backing away quickly, he latched onto Casey's arm with an iron grip as he backtracked out of the entrance. He said nothing, and neither did she. She knew from the way he kept looking behind him that he had seen something that threatened to follow.

They went to the other side of the marsh before he halted, listening intently. There was perspiration on his upper lip. It was the first time she noticed he didn't have any facial hair. "He's moved. He's not in the heart of the cave anymore." Shaking his head to himself, he added, "It would be perfect if we could get past him right when the dragonflies came. He's not blocking the portal. But it's abnormal; he's always in front of the portal." His voice held a note of uncertainty. She remained quiet as he thought to himself.

He shrugged and his hands hit his thighs decisively "Well, I'll have to risk it. You can stay here. If you hear Kapyn or see smoke, run. If I don't come out before that little flower over there starts to close, you go home."

"By myself?" A look passed between them, which Casey understood to remind her that this was the way it worked. She had the urge to give him a parting word or gesture. The chances were good that she'd never she him again. Instead, she balled up her fists and forced herself to say, "Good luck, then" as nonchalantly as she could muster.

She watched that flower until it should have wilted from the harshness of her stare. All the important points of her survival continued to repeat through her head like a looped short film. It was impossible to consider what Ivan was doing or wonder whether he was still alive. She took comfort in the knowledge that Kapyn's residence remained silent, dormant.

As a single figure exited the cave, she felt a well of joy overflow her being. She ran toward him, as he told her, "It's not Kapyn."

"What?"

"What I saw was where he molted."

"Molted?"

"Shed his skin, like a snake." Ivan grinned.

Casey's lip curled up. "That's good?"

"That's good that he wasn't in it! It's bad that he's sleeping in front of the portal, as usual. Sneaky worm, leaving his skin there… making me think I had a chance to get around him and wait for the dragonflies to come."

"It wouldn't have done much good if they didn't come, though, eh?"

"They'd have come at some point, and I'd wait it out.

"In the cave? What, do you mean you'd hide in there for days without leaving?"

Ivan nodded. "It'd be worth it. All it would take was a few seconds. The dragonflies would come through and I'd be gone."

Casey contemplated his statement for a minute, and asked. "What if they'd come and you'd had the chance to go through while I was out here waiting?"

He didn't look at her, but flipped her lone sock off the vine onto the ground. "What would you do if you had the chance to go without _me_?"

She chuckled sheepishly, "I guess I'd take it the same as you."

"Only I've been here much longer," he added, as though this gave him a first come, first serve priority. "Ready?" he asked abruptly.

"To explore the cave? Yeah." She inhaled deeply to calm her nerves and kept close behind him.

* * *

**A/N: You know where they're going next!**

**Hazelcloud: Your review made my day! You're right; Ivan is hardened. He's in survival mode. Your questions about the pixies are *excellent* ones. Since they aren't going to be answered in the next couple of chapters, here's the explanation early:**

**They use the humans to serve the dragon. The shelter at the pixies' rock is given to the one who feeds Kapyn. That's the trade off. Otherwise, the pixies could care less about Ivan or Casey. Yet... there is another reason for the pixies' attention to Casey in bringing her nourishment and summoning Ivan. That will become more evident later. (I really can't give it all away.) Thanks again!**


	8. Kapyn's Lair

Chapter 8: Kapyn's Lair

She noted the darkness the deeper they ventured. Halfway through, the warmth hit her face straight on. It brought her to understand the degree of heat she would likely experience if the beast living there were to take the notion to do some damage. Ivan pointed to something beside her and she veered away as a black, tapered lump grew into a larger mass. She tried to focus on her guide's back instead of dwelling on the mound of discarded skin so close to her. Her heart pounded and she had a hard time swallowing. The dryness, as they came closer to the heart of the dragon's lair, made it hard to keep a consistent flow of saliva.

Ivan was slowing and she drew up behind him to be as near as she could without touching him, willing to stick close to keep from seeing any dark object that might send her into hysterics. This was not the time or place to freak out. He reached his arm behind to find her and pressed her to his back. Casey felt a tinge of chagrin for being ghastly aware that his shirt reeked stronger than ever with the added mixture of dried and new sweat. Regardless, she reached up to clutch the mud-saturated folds of his shirt, glad to remain subject to his lead.

They followed an arch toward the right, moving stealthily. When he halted, he tapped her elbow. She peered around his shoulder. There was light here! Neglected little flames and smoldering piles of ash dotted the dragon's elliptical dwelling, granting to it a mystic aura. There was so much to take in, and she felt the need to register it all quickly. A rocky plateau was the closest object to them. It jutted out over the basin-like arena. Its jagged side was covered in finger-like trails, as though the stone had been painted in black streaks. It descended into the shallow pit in which was settled the hulk of something such a deep violet it could have been mistaken for black. It was Kapyn. She perceived the translucent pinions that rested along the reptile's skin. Could those really be wings? They looked like dragonfly wings! Surely this dragon couldn't fly with those!

Ivan cautiously brought her round to stand beside him. She hesitated slightly, not knowing what to expect. He was nodding his head almost imperceptibly, as though saying, "Are you taking this in?" Casey responded with a brief returning nod. Then he was walking toward the dragon's pit. She didn't like this at all and firmly resisted. He stopped and shook his finger in the direction of Kapyn, as though to say, "I must show you this." She bit her lip in an attempt to steel her nerves and took tremulous steps forward. Four, five, six, seven, eight. How much closer would she have to move? They were looking into Kapyn's bed, littered with things on which she didn't have time to concentrate. They were facing the curled, slumbering dragon, and Ivan was pointing straight to him.

Casey nodded, thinking to herself. "Of course I see that huge beast! Does he think I'm blind?"

He continued to point, and, noticing the motion of his hand, she realized he was tracing something. Then she saw it, behind the massive form of Kapyn: an indentation in the wall of the arena. The dragon's girth was almost resting against it. It looked to be a shallow, concave recess with etchings which were reflected in the flickering lights. She noted the shapes of the drawings. Dragonflies! It had to be the portal!

Now there were a hundred questions piling up in Casey's head. Unconsciously, she turned to Ivan, her eyes full of them. He merely pressed his finger to his mouth and took her forearm at they turned away.

They were leaving and Casey was intent on keeping track of what she would ask once they were safe to speak freely. But, as they rounded the arch to return to the corridor, she got a full view of the dragon's formidable discarded shell. She gasped aloud, smacking her hand to her face as she tried to keep the scream muffled. It was a great boon that the noise never came out; but Ivan looked toward the dragon's bed anxiously, and hastened a swifter retreat. She kept her eyes on the opposite wall as she followed him. He began to run now, and she tried to do the same. It was more difficult for her since her tender feet were not accustomed to the sharpness of the pebbles she landed on.

They made it out of the cave; but Ivan kept going, past the marsh, past the bushes and trees, until they were well away from Kapyn's somnolent abode. Casey's sore feet hesitated only meters behind him, only slowing to grab her shoes. As they hurried away, a few times he turned to bestow triumphant grins on her. They came within view of his shelter before either of them felt the need to speak.

The first thing he said was, "Next time run on the balls of your feet."

'Next time,' she thought to herself and her heart would have sunk if it hadn't been so chock-full of adrenaline.

"So, the dragonfly portal," she began. "It's just a wall?"

"Yeah, until they come through. Then it's open - a hole in the side of the pit - and stays that way until they leave again."

"How close have you been to it? I mean, when it's open."

"About where you're standing from me."

Casey's eyes grew wide. "Why didn't you go through? Did Kapyn-?"

Ivan shrugged. "I had my chance. I was an idiot for not taking it. The – something distracted me."

"What was it? Did Kapyn distract you?"

He seemed reticent for a few seconds, but changed his mind. "No. I was the one distracting Kapyn." Ivan sighed. "It was the baby. I couldn't… I couldn't just go and know that little runt…" His voice trailed away, but then his eyebrows narrowed. "I'll tell you this: If I had it to do over again, I'm not sure I'd make the same choice." His gaze was hard, as he stared out toward the gorge.

There was a thick silence in which Casey knew he was saying he would not stop for her. 'And why should he?' she thought. 'I don't want to feel like I owe him anything, either,' she reasoned. 'And I already do. But that isn't going to stop me from taking my chance to escape when it comes, whether he's with me or not.'

"Hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I'm always hungry," she said.

"How about eggs?"

"Real eggs? Wait. Are they raw?"

"It's protein, Ethel."

"Casey."

"It's protein, Casey. I found them this morning. They can't be very old." He opened the door of his hut. She followed him in and stared around the room which had been her prison the first night there. It was nothing but a bare enclosure with four walls, one of which had been built around a small boulder, allowing for the crook of the bed-like niche. The thin material of the satithrils covered the thin pallet; and the pile of clothes lay in a corner. An empty shell used for a bowl was lying upside down on the dirt floor. Ivan had lifted the bowl and was digging up the soft soil there. From the hole he retrieved three brilliant, coral-colored eggs, smaller in circumference than golf balls.

"Pretty, aren't they?" He held one between his thumb and index finger before popping it into his mouth. The crunch sent chills up Casey's spine.

"You eat it with the shell and all?" she asked, trying not to be too repulsed as he put one in her hand.

"You can try to suck the center out of it, but you'll waste some of the nutrition that way. The shell is thin."

"What is it? I mean, what kind of nest did you take it from?" she inquired, intent on examining its roundness as it rolled in her cupped palm.

"Do you really want to know?" he returned, as he placed the second egg on his tongue and drew it in. Crackle, crunch, crunch!

In response, Casey closed her eyes and stuck the sphere into her mouth. Setting her teeth on it she pressed down. As the shell gave way to the power of her jaw, she felt her skin crawl from her ears down her neck as the slimy substance within escaped its crumbling walls. She chewed vehemently, trying not to taste anything for fear it would cause her to hurl. The game-y flavor was heavy, and stayed on her tongue as she swallowed in one gulp. The pieces of shell, tender and flexible, went down easier than she had expected.

"Well?" prompted Ivan, as she opened her eyes at the completion of the task.

"It's protein," she admitted.

* * *

**A/N: Satithrils are the pods described in the last chapter.**

**Hazelcloud: Yes, you've got it about Kapyn and the dragonflies. I hope this chapter gave a little more detail on the dragonfly portal, too. How did Thon and Ivan become friends? Another great question. Thon likes the mud pit, and he's rather tame. Their meeting was bound to occur. In fact, the wildlife there is generally pretty tame. This is due to the pixies, which is explained in later chapters -which I've written, whoo hoo!**


	9. Dragon Wings and Miscellaneous Things

Chapter 9: Dragon Wings and Miscellaneous Things

At Casey's sensible response, Ivan's face spread into a boyish grin that prompted her to ask, "How old are you?"

He considered his answer before replying, "I had my sixteenth birthday two weeks before I went hiking with my dad. That was my present: a stint in the Appalachians. I fell asleep on the second day while we were taking a break on the trail. I remember hearing the dragonflies buzzing around my head…" His eyes took on a faraway glint before he added, "It was exhilarating that first day. Exhausting, but worth it. You'd come around a corner and the view… it would just take your breath away."

"It's kind of that way here with the flowers and the greenness of everything."

"No, not really. It's different. And the sky is always foggy. I've never seen the sun." He seemed to hesitate. "You'll think I'm crazy…"

"Nothing's too crazy here," she assured him.

"I sometimes wonder if we're on another planet. That's why there's no moon, you know?"

Casey shrugged. "I'm the wrong person to ask. I don't know anything about space or anything. I barely eked out a C in Earth Science last year."

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'll be sixteen in a month."

"Here's another weird question for you: what if we don't age?" His eyebrow was quirked as he waited for her to respond.

Casey just shook her head. "I don't know. But…" Her forehead crinkled. "That would be kinda hard if we were here for years, and just looked the same when we made it home."

"What if we returned home the second after we came here?" He snapped his fingers.

"That's a bit too hopeful, I think."

"Yeah, maybe it is. Still, it'd be nice. Think about showing up on your own doorstep after ten or eleven months," he mused with a thoughtful scowl.

Casey had put so much effort into forgetting about her home, she hadn't considered the repercussions of her absence. To be missing for ten or eleven months would be far more drastic than the week or so she had been gone. She thought about how it would feel to be away for that long and sympathized with Ivan.

"If you want to talk about it or anything…" she began.

"I don't," said Ivan bluntly.

"So, how come we're allowed to eat eggs but not meat?" Casey later wondered aloud, as they made their way up the hill to the pixie reservoir.

"It's the blood. The smell of it wakes Kapyn. He is exceptionally carnivorous. I've watched him eat."

"Have you watched him eat a, you know, person?"

"Sometimes your morbidity is a tad too – morbid," he ended lamely. "No. He doesn't eat them; he just scorches them to a fine powder. Does that make you feel better, knowing you're not a delicacy?"

Casey shrugged. "I suppose." She thought for moment, then queried, "So, how do you bring him food without that happening?"

"It's the only time you don't have to worry about getting incinerated. He won't so much as flicker-burp when you're giving him the food."

"Ha, ha," Casey retorted, convinced Ivan was being facetious.

He looked at her without a trace of a smile. "No joke. He likes his food; I told you that. You climb the steps up to the top of that platform that drops off into his bed. From there you push the meat off into the pit. Except for the whole sight of him tearing the animals to shreds, it's simple. I'd advise not watching, by the way, if you can help it."

Casey's eyes were twice their normal size when he finished. She was shaking her head, fearfully. "Don't think about it. It will probably be awhile yet before you'll need to feed him anyway."

"Is that suppose to be comforting?" she snapped.

"What do you want me to say? 'Sing a lullaby to the dragon?' Be realistic."

Casey snorted. "Realistic? We're talking about dragons!"

"Kapyn's wings," she began again, after they had climbed the gradual ascent for a few minutes. "He doesn't really fly with them, does he?"

Ivan nodded. "He flies. The wings on the outside – the thin ones – are not his only pair. The sturdier ones are folded closer to his body."

"Then you've seen him fly?"

"Yeah. He flies at night mostly, though. Of course, you can't see him then. I've watched him leave his cave in the late evening a couple of times."

"Well, wouldn't that be the best time to hurry into the cave and hide out?"

"It would, but he makes it impossible to enter while he's gone."

"How does he do that?"

"He leaves the walls at the opening red as element coils. Which is great to use as a light from far away, but not ideal for any cave explorers who prefer not to disintegrate into sizzling ash."

"How do the dragonflies survive it?"

"I've never been close enough to see one near the cave when it's lit up like that."

They reached the top where the pixies delivered and drew their water. It was enveloped in a constant hum of creatures in flight. Though they seemed to resist being seen anywhere else, the watering place was the pixie meeting ground. Here they congregated in masses. Sometimes the air was so thick with coming and going, Casey expected they would knock into one another; or, at least, a traffic jam would occur. They never parted or ducked away, but went around with a sense of the forces zooming by them. Here, she was able to take longer looks at these creatures better than any other time. Yet, they were so quick – and so many! - that her eyes could not stay on one long enough to satisfy her need for detail. They had no hair on their heads, making them closely resemble a large insect; but they were bigger than butterflies or moths. Their wings were transparent, making them far more difficult to focus on. There were different colors of pixie people, though each was solidly one shade. Some were all brown, with mesh-like brown wings; others were red or pink. There were also blues, greens and yellows; and their shades varied from soft to deep. There were even pale ivories, which were the most conspicuous and hardest to view closely.

* * *

**A/N: Did the dialogue make sense? Were you able to tell who was saying what? The next chapter will, hopefully, give more info on the pixies.**

**Iliana11: I'm so glad the dragonfly portal, etc. was explained a little more for you. I have no idea where the name "Kapyn" came from, but I'm glad you like it. I love when the names just pop into my head and I don't have to go on a lengthy search for the right name, you know? Thanks for reviewing!**


	10. Pixie Politics

Chapter 10: Pixie Politics

"They cannot treat us as outsiders!" one exclaimed louder than Casey had ever heard a pixie speak before.

Ivan whispered out of the side of his mouth, "Wait." They had already entered the clearing and were facing the crescent-shaped pool of rippling water which flowed from the cistern where the pixies poured and churned the liquid. They stood where they were and listened. The pixies took no notice.

"Rightly so. We have a right to the Zource!"

"Yes! Yes!" rejoined many tiny voices.

"Who are they, to accuse us of stealing water?"

"Patience. We have always striven to keep the peace," a fatherly voice responded.

"They have always given grudgingly. We want no more peace!"

"They've ostracized us and subjected us to their rules for taking from the Zource for centuries."

"Yes! We have had to bear enough!"

"What are they talking about?" asked Casey in a low voice.

"It's about the water supply. Shhh! Listen."

"I know the truth of your argument. I, too, have felt the pangs of their exclusion; but their tribe has always been assiduous in caring for the Zource," spoke the patriarchic voice of the reasonable-sounding pixie again.

"That is due to their desire to keep the water for themselves. They've had it for years. We must take back the Zource!"

"Take it back! Take it back!" repeated the other pixies.

"Who will come with me to reclaim the task of Zakree Zourcezerver and his tribe?" incited a pixie.

"Indeed," the winged wise one agreed. "And which family will take the lifetask of guarding and clearing the mouth of the Zource in place of them?"

"We would," answered one, "but we've expanded within our rock to accommodate our tribe twice. There is no room for expansion in the rock of Zakree Zourcezerver; and everyone knows the dwelling is in a terrible state.

"We must see to the pollination of the Beath blooms," said another. "They were not plentiful last season. Our tribe is too small to divide and fulfill both tasks."

"Who else is there who wishes to make excuses? Does no one want the task?" There was only the sound of fluttering wings in response. "Then it remains with the Zourcezerver tribe."

"Ziad Briartamer, they must be spoken to. Someone must hold council with them. They cannot deprive us of the water that is ours!"

"I will ask for an interview with Zakree myself. If he is accepts, you will hear it by the evening, and may send your criers to meet me at the gate of the Arched Mountain on the morrow after the second pour," answered Ziad.

The pixies dispersed into the ever-zooming droves. It seemed the meeting was adjourned.

After receiving their portions of the crystal, sweet water, Casey and Ivan did not linger. The excitement of those brief moments of the pixies' "council" left Casey with a sense of anticipation. What would occur? Would there be a war between the pixies? She kept her questions, as her taste buds lingered over the remnant of cool water in her mouth. It was strange; when she drank of the pixie's reservoir she was always reminded of the night she had been so sick, when Ivan had brought her water. It had tasted so much better then. She yearned for that refreshment, and looked forward to her visits to the watering place. Yet, the drink never met with her expectations. It was a constant craving within her to know that initial taste, though she would never desire to revisit that time of intense agony.

"What is 'the Zource'?" she asked Ivan finally. "Is that the water in Kapyn's cave?"

"No. I have only heard it discussed once before. It is brought from a distance. Occasionally, the Zource water is poured in and mixed with the water from the cave. It looks different."

"Different how?"

"I don't know. It just _gleamed_."

"Gleamed?"

Ivan shrugged. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Was it really water?"

"I guess."

"What did the pixies tell you?" pressed Casey.

"Tell me about what?"

"About the Zource!" she spoke, exasperatedly.

With irritation, Ivan responded, "That it is brought from far away. I told you that!"

"That's it?"

"You don't seem to understand: pixies don't feel any responsibility to tell others where things come from or what they do."

"But they told you…"

"Sometimes you can discover a little info here or there. But don't count on them to be that helpful. Their purpose is to work and fulfill the job of the tribe. Whatever it is they are caring for will get done, and if you aren't any better informed by the end of the day, that's not their problem." Ivan spoke bitterly, and Casey perceived that he must have had great difficulty in the past with this.

"Have you tried helping them with their tribe's job? Perhaps, they would be more agreeable to-,"

Ivan's frustration was revealed in a darkening of his features. "They don't want our help! Unless they just happen to be in a particularly good mood – or another human happens to be interrupting their sleep – they see no need to make attempts to be communicative with people."

She opened her mouth, preparing to speak again, when he interrupted. "I'm not answering any more questions. You've got eyes and ears; go figure it out for yourself!"

Casey's mouth clamped shut, and Ivan did not pay attention to her until they reached the maddlepone meadow. The golden shoots pointed their tips toward the ambivalent, pale sky. He lifted his hand to pinch one of the stems below a bud, effortlessly sliding his nails down the stalk. The separated kernels fell into his other hand. "Here," he offered, reaching his laden fist to pour the granules into hers.

Instead of taking it, she chose her own maddlepone stalk and extracted the seeds herself. Taking one from the others in her hand, she put it into her mouth and worked the outer layer off with her tongue, never looking at him.

* * *

**A/N: And now Casey's getting tired of Ivan's short temper.**

**Hazelcloud: I knew it would take some time to get to this chapter about the pixies. But this is more insight into the pixie world and their issues. More to come in future chapters. Thanks for the time you take to review. It means a lot.**


	11. The Art of PixieBaiting

Chapter 11 – The Art of Pixie Baiting

"I'm going home," she told him, after gleaning from a second stem. He didn't answer, and she took the way which would lead her to the pixies' rock. On her quiet journey back, she began to consider what she could do to learn more about her surroundings. She rarely spoke to the pixies because they would not let her view them, and hardly addressed her at all! Yet, what other means did she have to improve her learning? She would make more of an effort to know. Ivan was right, even though it had hurt to hear it. She needed to depend less on him and learn from the resources around her.

As she continued on, deep in thought, she heard a small, strange sound. It was slightly off the path and she stepped toward it to see what it could be. As she neared the place, a heavy reverberation surrounded her. In the corner of her eye, she saw the outline of a pixie. There had to be a good number of them to make such a thick noise, she thought as she drew closer to where the odd sound had originated. She pulled away a tuft of long, slender blades. Immediately, her eyes alighted on the large, dreaming cat in the grass. Unfortunately, her movements had awakened him. The leopard sat up, attentive to her presence. She reacted by turning to run and saw, as she did so, how the leopard bounded forward. She was a goner. Racing through the foliage, she was vaguely aware of where she was going. She took a sharp turn and ran through a patch of satithrils, which caught at her hair and shirt, making it difficult to progress very quickly at all. She turned to see how close the predator was to her, amazed she hadn't been captured already, and saw his graceless careening among the grass followed by a shocking thud. Although, the leopard had fallen, she continued to run out of pure instinct to put distance between herself and the dangerous cat. Her head was spinning when she finally collapsed, out of breath. She just didn't have the energy for such a heart-racing day. She looked down at her hands and wrists as they leaned on the ground for support. They looked so bone-thin and fragile. She had lost a lot of weight in the last few days. Here she was, running from a creature that might put her out of her misery. What was she trying to stay alive for? To starve to death slowly? It seemed pointless.

She began to pull the delicate satithril pods from her shirt. After detaching the third one, she brought her hand to her head in confusion. Why was she trying to remove plants that were prettier than the dingy, mud-covered clothes she was wearing? And now she had lost her way. Should she retrace her steps and risk running into that leopard?

"Why must it all be so complicated?" she spoke into the air.

"So complicated? What does she mean 'so complicated'?" asked a tiny voice somewhere in front of her.

"Humans make no sense, Zifford," came a pixie's reply.

"Zifford!" Casey said. "I remember you! You told me to drink those drinks a few days ago, didn't you?" No one answered. "Zifford, are you still there? Can you hear me?"

"Of course, I can hear her, the imbecile."

"Zifford, don't speak that way. It's rude. Just ignore her."

"How can I ignore her when she thinks I can't hear? Listen to her, Zyri. 'Can you hear me?' As if I didn't have the sense of gnat." He had registered his voice in a dull, lowing monotone as he mimicked her. Casey began to giggle. "Now, she's laughing at me. You called me rude. She's worse."

"Oh, I didn't mean to be rude. I only thought it was funny how you imitated my voice," she told the pixie – which kept evading her gaze – apologetically.

"Listen to her: 'Oh, I didn't mean to be rude.'" He spoke in the low tones again.

"Zifford, stop that. It's against pixie code."

"I'll tell you what's against pixie code: having to shadow her everywhere," complained Zifford.

"You shadow me…?" Casey began.

"Shhh, Zifford," Zyri admonished.

"Why?" Casey asked; but, as usual, the question wasn't answered. In her mind, she went through the different tactics she might try to persuade them to speak _to_ her instead of about her. Then she attempted a few.

"Were you at the reservoir with me earlier?" No response. "If so," she continued unfazed, "I was wondering where the Zource is. And what it is. I mean, is it water or is it something else?" After a few minutes of silence, she tried another topic.

"Do pixies shadow Ivan, too?" He'd never mentioned this. Certainly, he would have noticed by now. But the silence prevailed.

"Oh, come on! What does it take to get a polite response from you?" A bird chirped from a branch above. "I know you're there." Casey huffed. "Well, the least you could do would be to tell me how to find the way to the pixie rock again. I'm rather lost after your kind came buzzing around me, curious to watch me get eaten by that leopard."

"Did you hear that? She thinks we came to watch. Ungrateful-" screamed a ruffled Zifford.

"Calm yourself. She can't help her ignorance."

"I'm not ignorant, _you_ are," retorted Casey, offended. Yet, the moment it passed her lips, she realized it was the dumbest thing she could have said.

Something pinched her neck, and she screamed, thinking she'd been bit again. She gritted her teeth in vexation as Zifford's mischievous laughter lit on her ears.

"Zifford, I forbid you to rile the human! Do you understand? I will be forced to speak of it to _him_ if you do it again."

Zifford, it appeared, had been curbed by this threat, but continued to revel in his little joke vengefully. "At least it will teach her, the dullard! I almost lost a wing in that leopard's teeth trying to keep the poor dear from mauling her. And I'd have let it happen if not for-"

"Speak to whom?" Casey interrupted, contemplating Zyri's words. "Do you mean Ivan? Did Ivan tell you to shadow me?"

"As though a human could tell us to do anything," answered the sulking Zifford.

"Then, I guess it wasn't Ivan," Casey mused aloud, pretending that the pixie had spoken to her. "But, I'm lost as to what other 'he' you could mean." She waited, but no better understanding was offered. "Let's see... Could you mean Ziad Briartamer?"

Zifford gave a "pshaw!" to this.

"Hmmm…" Casey said. "How about Zacree Zourcezerver."

"He'd be the last person after what we had to do to-"

"Zifford Fleshgatherer! You will say no more to the human! You will not speak again!" Zyri's female voice was high, but intensely commanding.

Casey could tell she'd made enough trouble, although she was confused by another enigma now. Was it the fact that Zifford had answered her questions on a matter of warm debate among the pixies or something to do with Zacree Zourcezerver himself? The hum of the pixies' wings was ahead of her, as they threaded in and out of the tall grasses, trees, and vines. She followed it, wondering if they would lead her to her death by means of a leopard – or, perhaps, a tiger this time. But, she did not speak again. Instinctively, she knew she had pushed these two spies set upon her too far.

They reached the pixie's rock just as she passed a clump of blossoms which were half-closed to prepare for the night's descent.

* * *

**A/N: Who do you think is having the pixies follow Casey?**


	12. Ignoring Ivan

Chapter 12 – Ignoring Ivan

The next day, she awoke to the obnoxious sounds of a pixie spat. "If we don't watch her, we can't tell _him_ what she's up to." Casey pretended she was still asleep. It seemed arguments among those of the winged race were the only way to find out any real information.

"Yes, we can. We'll tell him what she always does. She's just a dull, unexciting human. She eats and eats and eats, walks to the mud with Ivan, eats more, gets water, eats again, and comes back to our rock to sleep. He'll never know, and we can go back to the herds."

"It won't work. He'll know, and he'll be angry."

Zifford – for it was his familiar teeny voice which had argued against shadowing her – seemed to contemplate this. "I refuse to be chained to this boring human from now on!" he finally exclaimed. "I don't care what he does to me -,"

"Zifford!" Zyri remonstrated.

"Zyri, let us not go back! I hate going there. It is so… so frightening."

"Stop this talk! It is our duty to serve the dragonfly prince. You know as well as I he will destroy our rock if we deceive him. He has done it to many tribes. You've entertained nonsensical plans long enough. Put them all out of your – she is awake."

Casey, knowing her cue, yawned for effect; and the pixies buzzed out of her line of vision. "Good m'ning," she greeting them, and was pleased to note her voice was still gravelly with sleep. "I'm hungry," she said, smiling inwardly to herself in remembrance of Zifford's complaint that she ate often. It was true. She snacked all day on little bits of anything Ivan had told her was edible. Even the yellow icoto, a dense vegetable with plum-colored insides which grew near the pixie's rock, didn't hold her hunger at bay. She craved meat.

Wandering out of the fence toward the sturdy spirals of icoto vines, which rose to her waist, she contemplated Zyri's words: Zifford and she had been assigned to watch her by a dragonfly prince? Who was that? Another pixie, maybe? A royal pixie? She had not met any upper class pixies, yet. He held some power, and it didn't take much to see he used fear to get his way. Casey wouldn't have been so interested in this prince, it if hadn't been for the name 'dragonfly' attached to it. Ever since the words had squeaked out of Zyri's little mouth, the idea had taken root that this prince might have some sway over the dragonflies! 'Wouldn't that be wonderful?' she thought while twisting the stem of the lemon-tinted produce. She smiled to herself mischievously, as the thought occurred to her of finding the dragonfly prince and convincing him to call the dragonflies so she could return home. 'Wouldn't Ivan be seething mad at me for finding the simple answer after he had tried and failed for months?' It was a delicious, triumphant thought that sweetened the dense flesh of the bland vegetable she bit into.

"Good morning," addressed Ivan behind her; and she started upon hearing the voice of the object of her spiteful daydream. She looked at him, expecting to find some guile in his eye to justify her scheme. It wasn't there. His face was genuine and friendly. This put her off after the short way they had spoken to each other the day before.

"What are you doing here? You are never this early," she said rather curtly.

"I came to see if you were up to a hike."

Casey stood up straighter. "Of course." She walked passed him, approaching a bush of pearl-shaped berries nestled in the leafy verdure of the wood. She busied herself with picking a few until she had a slim handful and put them all in her mouth. It was comforting to eat them in portions; it made her feel like she was getting more substance that way. "Coming then?" he asked expectantly.

"Oh, you meant you wanted me to go on a hike with _you_. How thoughtful," she eyed him icily. "But, I really can't today. I have other plans."

"Right. Other plans," he said, folding his arms. "You're still mad."

She returned to the berries. "Still mad at what?" she parried.

"I don't know, but sulking doesn't work on me. I'm leaving now, so if you're coming…" He left the question in the air and began his march.

"I'm not. Goodbye, Ivan," she responded sweetly to his back. She was perfectly rapturous over the fact that he paused to look back at her as she continued to amass one more handful of berries. Then, turning on her heel, she began in the direction of Kapyn's cave by herself. All by herself for the first time.

By the time she reached the last copse of trees, she admitted she wasn't as brave as she'd hoped. Still, the dried flecks of mud were irritating to her skin, and she decided to try to scrub with the new mud to get off the old. She kicked off her shoes and carefully dropped into the mire with a series of splats and plops. Eyeing the cave, she moved toward the region behind an overhanging set of branches where she had seen Ivan retreat for his soak in the grimy water. It felt semi-private there, and she began to scrub her arms. It was useless at first, but then the skin underneath seemed to breathe, as much due to its uncovering as the fierce way she worked which brought the blood to the surface.

It was after she'd been at this task for a short span of time that she noticed the familiar dark rippling in the water. "No… No, Thon! No! Go away! I'm not Ivan!" She began to scramble for the shore, aware that she wasn't going to attain it before the python reached her. Oh, the thought of that snake wrapping around her was too awful. She would scream – she would scream insanely – if it touched her. She turned her head at the movement beside her and was paralyzed as Thon's head rose above the marshy surface. They were frozen, sharing a mutual stare. Then Thon dropped his head and glided away.

Her knees were shaking as she climbed onto the land. She was shivering, but not because of her wet clothes. Her mind continued to replay what had passed between Thon and herself. He was intelligent in some way; but he was just too repulsive, not to mention he could squeeze her to marsh mush in seconds. No, they weren't destined to have a lifelong friendship.

She picked up her shoes, and noticed her lone sock still lying on the ground where Ivan had flicked it. An urge came over her, and she gave in to it. She reached for the sock and pressed it to her nose. It smelled wonderful! Oh! She could actually catch the fragrance Ivan had tried to explain. It was a mixture of her grandma's homemade laundry detergent and the honeysuckle body spray she liked so much. That scent was lovely and horribly devastating at the same time. She missed home so badly. She missed her mom's bean soup – she hated bean soup. She missed her dad's nasal laughs. And she missed her Laura, who was back in school by now. How much she wanted to tell her! She couldn't even keep a running account of what had happened today, much less everything that had occurred. No tangible record of the pixies' conversation existed, or how she had held her own with Ivan. What about her disquieting communication with Thon? Yes, she would have liked to put that confrontation into words.

A sound, like a trapped, ominous blast of wind, whistled over the pond. Casey bounded up in a hurry, dropping her shoes. It had come from the direction of the cave. Should she run or should she take to the mire again? 'Run,' Ivan had said that first time. So, she did. She took off in the direction of her pixie quarters, tripping over a sizable rock and stubbing her toe in a way that made her eyes water as she picked herself back up and kept going. Then they were around her, dozens and dozens of dragonflies. "Oh!" she gasped, as she realized what it meant. The portal was open! It was open right now! Without any concern for Kapyn, she spun around for the cave again, just in time to hear a piercing shriek – a human shriek - and watch as the cave belched a thick mushroom of fire and smoke. She swallowed hard in realization of what had just occurred as the heat from the smoke singed her eyebrows and instantly dried her hair, reminding her of the serious consequences of Kapyn's wakeful state. Still feeling the sense of urgency, she took off again. Her first wish was to find Ivan. He'd know what to do. But where was he? She had no idea!

* * *

**A/N: I am loving writing this story! What do you think of Thon? I feel sort of sorry for him.**

**Iliana11: Hello, my fellow fairy tale fanfics friend! Oh, your perceptions about the story are really good. I think this chapter might change your theory, though, about who is having her followed. It's so cool that you gave your hunches! Thank you!**

**Hazelcloud: Ah, NaNoWriMo has all your attention. Perfectly understandable. And, yet, you still reviewed. Aww. I feel loved.**


	13. Jiminy Cricket's Twin

Chapter 13 – Jiminy Cricket's Twin

"Zifford! Zyri! I need to find Ivan! Do you know where he is?" she asked breathlessly as she ran toward his hut. No answer. She banged on the door, which opened of its own accord, exposing the vacant shelter within. "Come on! You know the dragon is awake now!" she pleaded with the reticent pixies.

The hum grew loud in front of her, and she perceived they wanted her to follow.

It was quite a trek. They traveled beyond Ivan's shelter, toward the gorge. It was only a few meters from the colossal rift of land that Casey finally understood they were taking her _to _the gorge. She halted in her surprise. Then, on tiptoe, she traversed the rest of the way to peak down over the expanse. It was vast with steep, plummeting cliffs and narrow ledges. "He's down there?" she asked softly, awestruck. She recalled his words that the gorge was extremely tricky and how the dragonflies had originally come to take him. '_I fell asleep on a hiking trail_," he had told her. He had not said to stay away from the gorge! This is what he spent his time in the mornings doing? Well, she'd have to climb down to find him! Looking for a place to begin her descent, she stepped on a shallow jut of land. Pixie buzzing suddenly grew loud. She looked around cautiously, concerned with what the pixies were up to. The last time they'd made that cacophony, she'd almost been leopard fancy feast. She grabbed onto the ledge and took a steeper step. As her weight came down, the ground gave way, crumbling like a fine dust beneath her. She gasped, choking on her scream and instinctively holding onto the ledge.

"Foolish Ethel. When will she learn," huffed Zifford, as Casey shimmied back to start again.

"I'd learn heaps more if you'd say something – you know, warn me?" Casey retorted, examining the scrapes on her elbows. "It would be easier for both of us if you'd just say, 'don't go that way' or 'danger ahead' or something." She stood up and cupped her hands to her mouth. Just before she got a good lungful of air, Zifford announced, "Danger ahead."

"What? You mean yelling? I can't yell?" Casey grumbled as she began hunting for another place to try climbing down again. She lifted her foot to take a step downward. "Danger ahead," piped up Zifford.

"Ahhhh!" growled Casey loudly, and the sound echoed over the gorge, followed by a few rumbling, boulder-like chunks of loose rock that went toppling into the canyon. "Wow," Casey whispered, as she watched the effects of a careless loud sound.

She found another path, and the color of the rock looked more slab-like. She lifted her foot dramatically. "I'm taking the first step…" No response. She actually stepped down once! Lifting her foot, she tried for the next plateau in the descent. No pixie wing warnings, no alert from Zifford. She made it down four steps this way, until she lifted her foot for number five. "Danger ahead," informed Zifford.

Casey stopped. She scanned the terrain for a different way to approach the bottom. Finding a spot that seemed solid, she scooted toward it. "Danger ahead," observed Zifford.

"You are worse than Jiminy Cricket!" she cried, exasperated. "Do you enjoy having to tell me where _not _to go forty times, as opposed to just saying, 'Go here, Ethel – I mean, Casey.'" She pushed her grungy hair out of her eyes. Managing to work her way back to the four good steps, she asked, "Well, what route does Ivan take?"

She listened and the hum of the pixies grew louder. It flew _away_ from the gorge. Curious and feeling distrustful, she climbed out and followed their flight, retracing her steps. The thought entered her head that they were just going to direct her away from Ivan's location altogether. Still, she followed them onward a bit more, and was rewarded for her patience by the appearance of a crevice in the ground. It was narrow, but the rock extended in a set of makeshift steps progressing downward. She smiled in relief. "Thank you. Thank you very much."

She stepped down carefully, fearful of the slickness of the shiny, smooth surface. In the distance she could hear moving water. She descended below the forest level into a small cove, which held an azure pool of water in its midst. She grew excited. 'Bath! Bath!' The word repeated itself over and over in her head. First, she had to find Ivan. Bath or not, she was going to get out of here today!

Still, she could not resist a glance into to the small pool and bent toward it. Zifford remarked tritely, "Danger ahead."

Casey's eyebrows drew in, suspicious as to why the water was a danger, and tempted to ignore the pixie's warning. She stretched out a hand to touch it. Out of the water bounded a small, round creature with periwinkle-tinted fish scales. It looked like a two-dimensional circle, only it lashed out a silvery tongue which struck her wrist with an intensely jarring slap. It felt like she'd been given an electric shock! As she pulled back, she saw the thin cut which had been made there. The droplets of blood were not shy in forming. The fish had found a complying blood vessel. Casey clamped her hand over her wrist, more frightened of the blood than the pain at the moment. Kapyn was awake! Would he smell her blood? Would he hunt her down?

"Zifford! Zifford!" she cried, but the pixie did not answer. "Help me! I need to find -,"

"Well, well. Decided to follow after all," spoke Ivan conversationally, stepping over dirt clumps as he came into view from a break in the wall enclosing the cove. She looked up, the fear in her eyes. He took in the situation quickly, seeing how close she was to the pool and the crimson trail escaping to the ground and hitting a rock, spattering her dirty foot.

"What did you do, put your hand in and wave hello to a glader?" He was mumbling to himself, but she was too panicked to listen to his abuses of her intelligence.

"What do I do? I'm bleeding. Kapyn's awake! I saw the dragonflies!"

"The dragonflies! Were you at the cave? Did anyone come through the portal?"

She nodded with eyes round and anxious. "I heard the scream before Kapyn-," She couldn't continue, but squeezed her eyes shut. That horrible cry was etched in her memory.

"Here," he was pulling something out of his pocket. It looked like old, crumpled rags. "We'll need to wrap it to stop the bleeding, but it won't cover up the smell." He placed the material on her wrist and pressed down. On closer inspection, Casey deduced it was paper. 'Where did he get this?' she thought, but pushed the question away. There was too much to be done to think about a few scraps of crumpled paper. "There are a series of caverns nearby," spoke Ivan quickly. "It's not far, and it's downwind of Kapyn. That might be the best bet." He circumvented the Gladers' Pool, to which Casey gave one last longing glance as she hurried away. They were on a high ledge which afforded a view of the currents of water far below. To the right he began to ascend the sloping path.

"Move!" Ivan commanded when she dawdled, affected by the thin ribbon of a precipice she stood upon.

The retreat wasn't far from the cove. When Ivan stopped and swung down into a shallow pocket chiseled out in the wall beside the ledge, Casey followed suit quickly. She landed in a small cave with an uneven floor that held numerous passageways. Many were dark, while others gave glimpses of light in the distance. Nursing her wrist from the added stretch of swinging into the entrance, she was chagrined to find Ivan head into one of the dark corridors. "Light," he demanded as he entered. The lumins surrounded him.

Quickly, she counted the openings. 'Fourth from the left,' she thought, trying to catch up. It was only after she leaned against a taut piece of something she ascertained that Ivan had another way of assuring he didn't lose his way.

"Get off the vine; you'll break it!" he spoke sharply, and she backed off it, clasping the cord-like plant loosely in her hand as she walked along with it.

"How do you do that?" asked Casey, comforted by the illumination of the fluorescent bugs.

"Do what?" he responded.

"Call the bugs to light the way."

"Lumins are cave dwellers. The pixies train them to come when the word 'light' is used. One of the many things I learned while paralyzed, when the pixies used me as bait to lure a bear out of his cave for Kapyn's dinner." She could not help the goose bumps that erupted over her arms at the thought of experiencing such a thing. Ivan turned to her, "You'd think I'd have learned then and there not to trust the pixies."

"Wanting to survive does strange things to a person," she responded, tenderly checking whether the paper was still properly positioned on her wrist.

* * *

**A/N: Trouble follows Casey everywhere. Isn't Zifford annoying? He's great. **

**Iliana11: Oh, you have more hunches? Do tell! I love hunches. I know what you mean about opinions. I, too, am full of opinions… which I get in trouble for all the time. Now I want to use lovely words just to stay one of your favorite people! *grinning***


	14. Enlightenment

**This is part one of a double-update. Happy Thanksgiving to you! Take time to appreciate the invaluable gifts in your life as well as their generous Giver.**

Chapter 14 – Enlightenment

They rounded a bend and she could see the stalactites sparkling, their surfaces glimmering golden in the warm light shed by the lumins. "This is it. Stay here or you might get lost, which is easy to do. I'll come back and treat your arm before it's time to feed Kapyn."

"Feed Kapyn? Should I be doing that now that I'm -?" she began.

"You'll be fine. It's scabbing over already, I'm sure. I have to get a quick jump in the pond and alert the pixies about the little situation of our head waiter at Bistro Kapyn."

Casey suppressed the desire to complain, and gripped the vine possessively as Ivan left her. The lumins went with him. She waited until the glow retreated into complete darkness, before calling timidly, "Light?" Obediently, insects from recesses zoomed around her head, which wasn't as pleasant as she thought it would be. They were glaringly close and didn't have a constant wave of illumination; but her eyes soon adjusted.

She looked about the glittering cavity, intimidated by the way the icicle-like spikes of the cave divided it into gloomy sections. She also found a thick roll of worn paper resting against a spindly stalagmite. It was similar to the sheets wrapped around her arm. Clumsily, she tried to pick up the roll, with one hand. It was wider than her palm could easily embrace, making it very difficult to wield as the sheets on the outside began to slide off.

She tucked the vine under her arm and used her other hand to grasp it, her wrist giving a slight twinge in the process. Even with two hands, the parchment succeeded in being unmanageable as Casey would unfold the curling ends of the stack of pages back, and they would break away and tightly wind up again. Finally, she was able to keep it in place with her knee and hands to see the inner page. It was filled with tiny writing, as though the author meant to use up every inch of space.

The first paragraphs began,

"_My study of the dragons has left me with two theories: It is my belief that they settle close to us because of their carnivorous nature; and our instinctive ability to dominate and tame the animals they crave draws them to seek us out. The beasts of this land are known to flee before a dragon; and, in spite of the fact that it is competent in procuring its own prey, the dragon delights in receiving its meal while expending very little effort._

_My second theory involves the relationship of our people to the dragons. While there is no documentation that I have found to prove the assertion, I am convinced that a dragon is able to exert some influence over the mind to bring men to serve the beast. This would give credence to the superstition prevalent in our community that the dragons are to be fed and catered to in order to keep a peaceful, harmonious state at all times."_

Casey looked up from the script, her mouth open in shock. 'Dragons? Did he mean more than one?' And the writer had referred to men, not pixies! 'Then there are others here!' she thought delightedly. Looking down at the battered roll again, she recanted, 'Or _were_ here once.'

She continued reading, though the passages became drier and drier, describing tedious accounts of community views on the dragons. She realized she was reading a journal of sorts; and that, while the author was knowledgeable, he did not seem concerned with fully explaining his meaning on many points. Still, she was able to glean that his opinions were not popular. In fact, she wondered if what she was reading was a personal means to air his doubts. She skimmed through the lengthy script, flipping pages and alighting on some segment that caught her eye. It was hard to be sure some small phrase wasn't important. Conversely, she wasn't even sure what she was searching for. She just wanted to know about the dragons, how the men fed them, what might be a means of getting rid of one. For, if she could gather even a particle of information to help her understand how to better live in this foreign land, she might fare better.

She had given little attention to the glowing, buzzing creatures around her, until the light began to dim. She watched as the insects attempted to eke out the last ounces of luminescence. Their tired bellies flickered one by one and went out. 'Poor things,' she thought, as she sat in the dark, wondering how long she'd been reading. Her eyes felt tired and welcomed the reprieve from the harsh lights.

Without the drone of the lumins in her ears, she soon perceived the drip, dripping of water. Casey was very thirsty after her sprint from the cave and tour of the gorge. Tentatively, she clamped her fingers over the slender vine and moved forward cautiously, listening for the sound of the water. Just a small pool in her palm would be – oh! – so refreshing. But the ground was uneven; and she began to fear her next step might end up being a multi-level fall into an abyss she could not ascertain in the caliginous cavern. So, she waited while the sounds of water in an unknown region beyond teased her into a greater thirst.

Fortunately, Ivan's footsteps were soon heard. "Light!" he exclaimed and bugs from another chamber surrounded him. She met him anxiously.

"Have the dragonflies gone back already?" was her first query.

"No. The pixies tell me they are at the pool in Kapyn's cave."

"The pool?" questioned Casey, her need for hydration even stronger.

"The pool where the pixies gather water," he said, looking around for a place to set down his armful of supplies.

"Um, Ivan?" she asked, as he knelt down to place them on the ground.

"Yeah."

"I'm thirsty."

"I brought some water for you." He handed her the shell of a fruit only a quarter of the way full. She drank it in two gulps and looked askance, wondering why there was so little. "I lost some of it on the way," he explained distractedly. "Okay, this is what you need to apply to your wound. It's very sticky; but when spread, will harden and seal it."

"Have you used this before?"

"Yes, Eth – I mean, Casey – I've used this many times," he answered impatiently.

Casey took the opaque substance smeared on a piece of tree bark. She began to apply it to her wrist, dubiously, before adding a little more to find that with persistence it did, indeed, cover the wound. She looked up to find Ivan watching her cryptically.

She smiled proudly. "Done," she told him.

"Okay. I'm giving you an option here: The pixies – well – they know you panic a lot. It has been explained to me that if you chew on this flower, it will make you more relaxed. And," he hurried on quickly, holding up his hand at Casey's attempt to interject, "I haven't tried this, and I'm not going to advise you either way. Just know that if you go into hysterics, there's no telling what Kapyn will do." His gaze was severe as he ended with, "There. It's up to you." He offered the pitifully crushed bloom in his palm.

"I don't know. It's just as probable that they would give me something to put me in a worse panic –"

"That isn't possible," he interrupted wryly.

Ignoring him, Casey continued, "to be certain I _did_ get crispered."

Ivan shrugged. "Your choice."

"I don't know!" She put her hands to her cheeks in indecision.

"Just think about it, then. You don't have to decide now." He stuffed it back into the pocket of a piece of dark clothing lying on the floor. Then he noticed the roll of paper and the loose sheets near her feet. "Where'd you get that?" he asked sharply.

"It was there on the floor. Well, it was in one roll, but it was impossible to read -,"

"You read it?"

"I skimmed about twenty pages – the print is tiny! – and then the bugs lost their light."

"What did it say?"

"It talked about dragons and men. Did it mean men were here before or could they still be-?"

"Fiction," Ivan commented, dismissively.

"How do you know it's fiction?"

"It has to be. There would be signs of civilizations in the area if men had lived here in the past."

"How do you know there aren't?"

"Because I've looked for them, dimwit!"

"Oh, well that's that then. You've looked for the signs, and didn't happen to find anything telling – like a piece of writing or a whole _roll_ of writing?"

"We don't have time for this. You've got a dragon to feed and I've got an escape to organize." She rolled her eyes and tried to cross her arms but hit the sore spot on her wrist, which was strangely stiff now. Looking down, she noticed how the salve had dried into a hard, white shield.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, you are right that the roll of paper hints at something, but what?**

**Iliana11: I've read your review through thrice now. (Had to use 'thrice.' It's delectably old and quaint.) I'm sure you're on to something, but I just can't tell you! She is soon to find out one thing: what it takes to feed a dragon. Not fun. I like prophecies, too; but they are difficult to write. One has to know how everything is going to happen – or at least bluff well, including a few details. (I'm still writing this story, so I don't know **_**exactly**_**.) 'Like' each other? I sometimes wonder if Ivan and Casey will make it to the next chapter without killing each other. :) I lurved your review! – your grateful beta**

**Hazelcloud: "Did someone come through and get roasted?" *Snorts hot tea after reading this hilarious line.* (And, yeah, it didn't feel good; but I was laughing too hard to care.) About the roasted visitor: Sorry, there's nothing left to tell. Literally.**

**MertleYuts: Dearest Mertle, I remember reading your stories! (I think I was taken with 'Deformed' for a bit.) To think my story has caught your eye… How lovely! I'm honored. Many thanks.**


	15. Ivan's Instructions

**Part two of the double update.**

Chapter 15 – Ivan's Instructions

"I've brought something for you to wear," Ivan told her, as he held up the jacket which she recognized as the one he'd offered her in his hut on the first morning. "It's dark," he explained. "It's better not to bring too much attention to yourself."

"I opt for wallflower status," Casey agreed readily, donning the coat. She didn't even notice the smell of it now, and the thought of how she must reek flitted through her mind before she paid attention again to what Ivan was saying.

"First, we'll go over what's going to happen: how the pixies lower the animals down and how you're going to direct them over the edge. You'll understand more when we get to the hill outside his lair; I want to take you there before we enter the cave." He held the vine and motioned for her to go ahead of him. Even though she was pretty sure of the way out now, she kept her fingertips on the creeper all the way into the entrance chamber.

"You said, 'we.' Do you mean you'll be in the cave, too?" she asked as he approached the small aperture above him.

"Yeah, but I will follow later, when Kapyn is too preoccupied with his food to notice." His hands gripped the rocky nodules above, and he lightly stepped up the footholds like a pro, before halting and turning to look at her. "Oh, sorry. You probably need a lift, right?"

Casey was rolling up the sleeves of the jacket, which was almost twice her size, to prepare for the climb. "Yeah. That'd be great."

He jumped down to help her. "Step here," he said, pointing to a dent in the rock. "Now," he directed her foot, "put your other foot here and grab the ledge." She teetered backwards, lost her balance, and thwacked his head with her elbow, trying to right herself. "The ledge, please," he stated, as though she had somehow mistaken his skull for that object.

"Sorry," she offered after attaining it; and, given an extra push, she was able to scramble out without any further mishap. Pressing herself to the wall, she traversed the narrow path as quickly as her legs could move in a sidewise fashion. Ivan didn't rush her, but kept talking.

"Once you begin feeding Kapyn, you need to pace it. He doesn't like his food to touch the ground. So, don't just keep pushing them down."

"What does he do if that happens?"

"He doesn't eat it. Leaves it there to rot. And then the pixies get mad because that's one more they have to make up."

"I'm not worried about the pixies getting mad."

"You will if Kapyn becomes irritated because they take too long to bring down the next course. And they'll do that to you, too." He muttered something that sounded like "rotten insects" under his breath. She came close to asking him what he'd said, but realized the pixies might be listening. There was some fear in Ivan to criticize the pixies. She had felt the need to curb her tongue around them, too, knowing they had the ability to make things harder on her. It made her resent the creatures all the more.

"So, wait until he places his claws on the rock to send down another."

She nodded, trying to visualize something she'd never imagined doing before. She looked down, found her hands were shaking, and shoved them into the pockets of her jacket. "Hey, what's in here?" she asked, as her fingers touched small objects.

"Some nuts. Just in case you need them."

"Why would I need nuts?" she asked, mystified.

"In case you get hungry," he explained. Casey suddenly knew what he meant without his saying it. If she should find herself trapped, she would have a little food to wait it out, at least. She quickly changed the subject to something she could handle: the reason for this terrifying thing she was attempting to do. "How will I know when to run for the portal? I mean, I'll have to wait until he's full, I'm guessing."

"Yeah. He usually goes to sleep after that."

"So, the plan is: make for the portal after he falls asleep?"

"Um-hmm. How's your arm?" he asked solicitously.

"It hurts."

"Well, it will heal quickly now," he comforted.

Casey eyed him silently, not wanting to admit she was skeptical of his sudden attentiveness.

They were going a different route instead of directly to the mouth of the cave. They had walked a good distance before she saw a four-legged, long necked mammal ahead of them. It was similar to a giraffe, but had black and brown stripes encircling its legs. "What is that?" she asked.

"Kapyn feed," Ivan answered.

"It looks like a reddish zebra," she added, trying not to think about the fate of the poor creature.

"You'll see some zebras, too, I imagine. Depends on what the pixies have decided to feed him this time. They call a zebra, 'ravra.' They call this one an 'oaty.'"

The oaty began to slow its pace, and out of the foliage came a lioness. Casey gasped, and Ivan merely put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. They waited, watching how the predator circled the oaty and made a low, threatening growl in her throat. Frightened, the oaty made a whining sound and moved forward. The lioness followed.

"She's shepherding him," whispered Ivan.

"Why doesn't she eat the oaty?" asked Casey softly.

"Because the pixies will feed her to Kapyn, if she does," he responded.

"How can she know that?" she said, almost to herself.

"Pixies communicate with the animals." Casey's expression showed she was not persuaded to believe his assertion. "I don't mean they talk, per se. They just have this relationship where the fauna are more receptive to what they want them to do. Like Thon. Haven't you noticed most of the beasts here are more responsive, easier to… understand in some way?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose so." There was a path forming ahead, and she could make out the heads of more four-legged animals along it. She began to count. She made it to eleven and stopped. "I'm supposed to feed _all_ these animals to him?"

"No. They bring extra. It's generally about six or seven before he's full. I've fed him as many as ten, though. I doubt he'll eat that much, since his meals have been more frequent. He only ate five last time." The path was gradually becoming an incline, and they took it in silence for awhile.

"Ivan?"

"What?"

"Just talk to me. I'm – I'm scared."

"Nothing to be scared of yet. I'm taking you to the top of the mountain, and you won't even know Kapyn's underneath unless he's grumpy. Then it'll just be hotter and a little smoky." They caught up to the animals. The leopard, cheetah, and lions, ignored them as they passed. Casey grabbed Ivan's arm and kept her eyes to the ground. She was frightened of so many things: the large cats, the dragon, even the skittish way the cattle acted as she moved close by them.


	16. Feeding Time

Chapter 16 – Feeding Time

The black and silver streaked mountain rose from the lush vegetation, and its stark brilliance was lost on Casey. As they came over the crest of the rock, she perceived large, blanket-like rectangles lying on the ground. She noted their solid, yellowed white appearance as they approached.

"These are the supports for lifting the food down," Ivan explained, picking up a corner of the sheet of flexible material.

"It feels like rubber," she said, testing the texture.

"That's what it is. It comes from tree sap, and it's very durable. It's from another kind of tree, but that's pretty much what's on your wrist. I was able to thatch my roof with a little of this recently," he added, releasing the sheet. "It keeps the bugs from making unexpected calls. They don't like to share it, though" he added, speaking of the pixies.

"She must be ready soon," instructed a small voice, as a pixie zoomed between them.

"Ethel," the pixie addressed her directly, which surprised her. "You must not give him the food too quickly. One by one-," He hovered directly in front of her. It was the first time she had ever been able to really take in all the details of the being; and, yet, she was just too distracted by what would soon occur to concentrate on the small features of the pale ivory pixie.

"I've told her about waiting for Kapyn to perch on the rock before giving him the next beast," informed Ivan.

"Good. Did she chew the Cassifal flower?"

"How long before you are ready?" Ivan had changed the subject, and Casey was grateful. She felt the petals of the flower in her pocket, where he had stuffed it.

"We will begin soon. Take her to the cave entrance."

"Right now?" Casey asked weakly, but Ivan was marching her down, passing the straggling beasts being led to their death. She wasn't ready to do this. Her mind was still reeling, going over all the impossible obstacles, the biggest being Kapyn himself.

"It's simple," he was saying. "You just walk in and climb the steps to the top of the overlook. The pixies will swing the animals toward the slanting surface of the rock. You just push them over."

"But won't the animals fight it?"

"Look." He pointed to the plateau behind them. She watched a zebra, surrounded by a strange cloud of white that looked like dust, make a helpless mewing sound and drop to the ground. "The pixies put them out like lights. They are completely immobile."

Casey's hands contracted into fists as she realized what the pixies used their bites to do. Visions of lying paralyzed in the darkness reoccurred to her. "You mean, those poor creatures are like I was - like you were when they used you as bear-bait? They are going to be-,"

"Don't think about it. The pixies bite them so many times they're as good as dead. It's just they're still warm-,"

"Oh. Stop it. Stop it! I can't do this." She halted and Ivan tried to reach for her arm. She shrugged him off.

"Don't be ridiculous! You want to get out of here, don't you?"

"I'm not going to take part in this slaughter!"

He grabbed her arm with a grip like a pincer. "Yes, you are. It isn't nice, but it's going to happen; and the pixies have agreed to let you-,"

"Agreed to let me?" She turned her head as he pulled her along. "Oh, thank you, mighty pixies! Your generosity-,"

"Save your breath," he whispered cautiously as they dropped to the level of the mouth of the cave.

"I'm not going!" she stated, resisting with every ounce left in her, attempting to sit as Ivan dragged her.

"Yes, you are!" he contradicted with gritted teeth.

"I am not!" He dragged her over the stones to the entrance.

"Where's that flower? I'll shove it down your throat!" He was bent over, rifling through her pockets, while she pummeled his arms with her fists and feet.

"I'm not eating it, rat boy!" He wasn't paying attention. She could see his mind working as she continued her worthless thwacks on his arms.

"I'll get Thon…" he threatened, then straightened up suddenly, backing away. She stopped swinging her fists. "That's better," she acknowledged, standing up. "I refuse to-,"

He was looking above her head at something. And, even before she heard the thwomp-womp of Kapyn's serpentine body scraping the sides of his cave, she knew.

* * *

**A/N: Ooooo. Yeah, cruel cliffhanger. **

**Okay, I'm very, very excited and I have to share the good news: My beta for A Lyrical Persuasion has read this story and she likes it! And she's planning to clean up the mess I've made of this one. So the chapters will be undergoing a sprucing and hacking and general beautification. (And if you've read ALP, you know she's really good.) She's already kindly pointed out the "per say" - instead of "per se" - in the last chapter, which I have been cringing over ever since. :P Had to edit that one immediately.**

**Iliana11: Hmm. Your friend who frequents the fairy tales section is very perceptive. :D Ah, the good, the bad, and the incredibly misunderstood dragon. I definitely agree that Kapyn isn't the good kind and it's hard to misunderstand him, so 'evil' is a good description. Are there are any other dragons? I don't know yet whether that will be introduced into the story or not. About the "wallflower status" line: When I say things like that out loud, it sounds stupid. Why is that?**


	17. Dragon Breath

Chapter 17: Dragon Breath

Ivan was running. She was running. She didn't dare look behind her, and was hardly aware of what occurred until she saw the dark, massive head of the beast as it curled its neck around in front of her. Casey scrambled backwards and fell, the wind knocked out of her. She stared at an immense, spade-shaped head. Its ghastly mouth drew to a point, and from it flicked a thin, forked tongue. The ridges of the nostrils opened only slightly as she watched, fear having left her without sense of thought. Horror had stopped her heart. Two small wisps of smoke curled forth from its nose. She could smell the acrid fire within its belly. The sensation of the dragon's breath brought her to her feet, and she stared into the prismatic eyes of Kapyn, which radiated with an inner ruby light. The eyes would have been beautiful if they had not been placed within the terrible ugliness and magnitude of the dragon watching her.

Again, Kapyn puffed and she backed away. It slithered toward her, its neck lowered and head turned for one eye to observe her. She backed away again, desperately looking for some way of escape. The solution was behind her, and reconciled her to her fate. Kapyn was using intimidation to lure her into the cave. The dragon wanted its food, and knew – _knew_ – she was to serve it. And that was the end of Casey's fight.

Broken, she took the cave corridor trembling and hurried, passing the rotting skin without a glance. Her knees were rapping against each other so that she thought each step would be her last and she would crumble to the ground. Kapyn's thumping gait in her ears made her heart flip-flop nauseatingly. She had to do this. As she rounded the bend, her eyes darted for the dragonfly portal, and simultaneously she felt Kapyn's breath on her shoulder, daring her to be defiant.

'Gutless,' she chided, as fear drove her to the steps of the feeding platform. Halfway up, her lungs burning from the dryness of the cave, she saw the light flood down from the rhombus-shaped aperture in the side of the mountain. The brightness soon diminished as the lifeless carcass of a zebra was lowered in the elastic support. The dead weight of the animal gave a sickening sway. Feeling as though she was merely a spectator, she watched as her hand went out to push the prey onto the sloping ledge against which it heavily swung. It was when her cold, nervous hand touched the flesh - the warm hide - a ferocious shiver ran through her. The side closest to Kapyn's sunken dwelling snapped and Casey felt a burning slap against her cheek. The pixies had dropped two corners of the harness, the sides retracting in release; and now the carcass was sliding down the rock into the waiting, narrow jaw of Kapyn. The cracking of the bone, the sounds of the flesh torn asunder, were gruesome. Casey stepped back and her knees slid out from under her as she landed against the jutting wall behind. She was going to faint; her vision was fading. But she couldn't! Not now! Even her icy fingers were numb as she fumbled for the opening of the pocket in her jacket. She almost bit her own shaking hand, trying to force the Cassifal flower into her mouth. 'Chew,' she directed herself, unable to make her body react in any mode but panic. The stem was bitter and her mouth was sticky. In the next minute a heaving weight rocked the mountain. Casey accidentally bit her tongue, and the flower, adhering to her palate, flew out.

She didn't have time to search for the remnants of it. That rumble had been Kapyn's message that he was ready for the next offering. The loaded net was already on its way. She stood on her wobbling limbs, feeling as though nothing could remind her legs how to walk, and stumbled over to push the second beast onto the slab of rock. This time, she lifted her arms to her face as she heard the retraction. It barely grazed her forearm.

Again she backed away, the sounds of Kapyn's feasting causing her insides to fluctuate ominously. 'Don't. Throw. Up,' she told herself, forcing herself to swallow and finding the action merely made her throat convulse all the more with no spittle to achieve the desired result.

This time she was able to continue standing, and watched as an oaty was lowered. Mechanically, she began to consider how she would push it forward and jump back to escape when the sides of the support were released. She must keep from seeing Kapyn's open smile of anticipation! She pushed too hard and three sides snapped; the oaty fell against the ledge but not far enough to slide. For a split second she waited, hoping the carcass would move downward on its own. It did not. Out of sheer necessity, she braced her foot against the wall behind and pushed the weight of the oaty over, ever aware of the red-tinged, faceted eyes of Kapyn staring up at her. She saw the horrid gaping mouth of the dragon, still saturated by its previous course.

'Will it never be over?' she thought as the next mammal – it looked to be a goat - blocked the light from the roof. At Kapyn's signal, she pushed it over, clear of the lift's backlash. She watched as the empty support was retrieved above, hoping another gift to the dragon would not be needed. She just wanted to be done, for the bone-grating noises to stop. Merciless, merciless beast! She hated it, hated its filthy, bloodied jaws. Anger welled up in her as the next lifeless lump of flesh was lowered and the jarring force of Kapyn's weight told her the dragon wasn't satiated. She shoved the next beast down, the corner of the support breaking free and catching her in the elbow sharply. She rubbed it, feeling fury mingled with self-pity.

She waited for some time against the wall for Kapyn to shake the platform again, but he didn't. Could it mean he was full? She didn't want to peek over the edge and see. The sight of all the blood and remains would be too much. Now what was she to do? Wait for Ivan? Was he in the cave yet? How would she know when to run for the portal? It occurred to her then that he had been very specific about what would be required for her in feeding Kapyn, but he'd never discussed his strategy for their escape. Casey remembered Ivan's words.

"_I will follow later, when Kapyn is too preoccupied with his food to notice."_

The dragon was no longer preoccupied with eating, so Ivan had to have snuck in already. In her mind's eye, she studied the layout of the lair. If he had entered while Kapyn was eating, then Ivan would have had a clear path to get to the dragonfly portal. While the dragon was on the opposite side of his bed receiving the carcasses, Ivan could easily have dropped down into the pit and run for the-

The realization of his scheme finally penetrated her thoughts. He had meant to employ her as the distraction. There had never been any plan to save her! He had only been out to help himself. When speaking of the baby and forfeiting his chance, he had told her this concisely; she could see it now. Sunk down on the top step, too taxed to determine what move she could make, she reexamined his words and actions as they flashed through her brain.

"_We're a team now."_ He had joined with her to do the work he couldn't perform on his own. In doing this, she had given him the means to get away.

"_This is a different environment…you can't get attached."_ His mind had been guarded so that he could continue to fend for himself.

What was that question he'd asked? _What would you do if you had the chance to go without me?"_ He had justified his determination – his "every man for himself" mentality - by appealing to her sense of what was fair. But was it? She felt so deceived and used.

Her hand felt for the nuts in her pocket, what had been left of his conscience: the sum total of a handful of nuts. She could hardly account for it, but just as swiftly as the sense of despair came, it went from her. She felt furious at being left entirely to the whim of the crimson-stained monster below.

Casey was driven, crazed to reach the portal now. After experiencing the disgusting display of Kapyn's appetite, she knew she never wanted to feed him again. She wasn't going to live here. She was going to get out or die trying! On the balls of her feet she stepped down from the overlook lightly, quietly. She couldn't ascertain any noises, causing her to reason that Kapyn was asleep or was being lulled into rest. She had to be alert and primed to take her chance. She needed the best angle to make the solitary push for her goal. She clamped her hand on the base of the overlook just as Kapyn's glowing eye rounded the rock. She screamed a short, horrified spasm, retreating into a small recess. He grew before her, drawing himself up and expanding. She watched in slow motion, knowing what he was preparing to do. There was no protection here from his fire. Instinctively, she lifted her jacketed arm to shield herself, unable to peel her eyes away from his snout.

It was time for her to die. He threw his body forward, opened his mouth, and swung his neck around toward the entrance - away from her! Volumes of flame engulfed the curve into the corridor. The heat knocked Casey down and she scrambled to shield herself from the impact by going deeper into the shelter of the recess. Her whole body seemed to be on fire as the temperature spiked, though there was no flame on her. She crumpled against the rock and buried her head in her hands, trying to find a breath, feeling the skin on her lips peel away. She heard a rough whisper. "Please no. Don't. Hhhh. Please." It was her own as she tried desperately to inhale the sizzling heat into her painful throat and lungs. She couldn't get enough air. Her head began to spin with the lack of oxygen. Right before everything went black she smelled a familiar puff of air. Dragon breath.


	18. Beholden

Chapter 18: Beholden

Casey awoke to the knowledge that her surroundings were cool and there was water nearby. She opened her eyes and, registering the rocky walls and darkness, at first believed herself to be in the cave in the gorge where Ivan had brought her to wait. The confrontation with Kapyn flashed through her mind. Had it all been a dream? Had she merely fallen asleep and, when Ivan returned, she was really going to have to feed that awful dragon? She wouldn't do it. She knew Ivan's deception now. He was on his own. "We're a team now," she quoted cynically, and felt the painful sensation of her healing lips parting and cracking as she opened them. She tentatively touched the surface of her bottom lip with her tongue. It felt foreign to her, dry and brittle.

Sounds of fluttering wings made her turn over. Where was she? Were there pixies here? The soft susurration-like sounds were peculiar; the pixies were usually loud. What she saw amazed her. Just a few meters away was a body of water as big as a river which dipped in shallow intervals to silently flow downward until it escaped, disappearing through a rocky cleft. Above the river, lumins glowed, hovering over the water as though intent on gazing at their reflections there. The whole cavern was swathed in warm light, and she could hear the movements of the insects. These weren't pixies, they were dragonflies!

She stood up to approach the water, her body oddly stiff. Her elbows and knees felt scraped. She longed to push her face into the gentle currents, but remained cautious. What was this place? Was the water drinkable? Instead, she knelt beside it and peered into the rippling stream. Only an adumbral figure of her head was visible. She watched it as the crown of another head rose above her own. She turned around quickly, understanding what the water reflected. Before her stood a figure cloaked in a shiny grayish material. Even his face was enshrouded in a cowl of the same hue. She stood up, keeping her eyes on him.

"Ivan?" she asked timidly, wondering if he was the one beneath the mysterious garb.

The stranger pulled back his hood. Rich, curling hair encompassed his round, child-like face. His eyes were soft and dark. He smiled slowly, kindly. "Drink," he said, moving his concealed hand to gesture to the water.

She didn't wait for another offer. Her hands dove into the river, and she put them to her scorched lips, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She didn't know how it tasted; she was too thirsty to care. As she drank, there was time to wonder if she had died and this was some kind of afterlife, that the figure which lingered beside her was a guardian or angel or something. She rubbed the water over her wrists and splashed her face, delighting in the feel of it on her skin, the endless amounts of water beneath her hands. Oh, how she wished she could take a-"

"Wash." The welcoming tones of the stranger surprised her. Did he know what she was thinking? She hesitated. What she really wanted to do was jump in. Instead, she took off the jacket, finding the cloth adhered to her elbows painfully. She began to spread handfuls of water over her mud-pasted, aching arms.

She watched as he waded into the river. The shallow water reached his knees. He offered his hand to her and she took it. The strange covering felt filmy to her touch. Her grasp caused the topmost layers to fleck off into the streaming water; their fragments caught the lumin-light. She followed him into the waiting bliss of the cooling ripples.

"Ahhhh." It left her lips like a bird in flight. He smiled and didn't let go of her hand until she asked, "Can I - May I sit down in it?"

He nodded and Casey folded until she was shoulder deep in the flowing stream. The mild temperature eased her muscles. She basked in the current and braced her hands behind to lean her head back. She could feel the weight of the clumps of mud as they were released from the strands of her hair. She could not recall ever feeling so relaxed since she'd come to that place. She raised her head and perceived how the stranger watched her intently. Silently he stood and waited.

Or was he waiting? She wasn't sure. She noticed how the dragonflies landed on him. They congregated on his shoulders and arms. They landed in his curly, silken locks. A myriad of dragonflies, whose vibrant, translucent pinions were rainbows of refracted light, rested on the shimmering dusky apparel, intensifying the sartorial elegance.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am known to the pixies as the prince of the dragonflies. It is because they come at my call."

Casey's heart almost sprang from her chest at these words. He was the dragonfly prince and, yes, he could call the dragonflies; he could open the portal! The one thing Casey needed. She would do anything to go home, and it looked as though she would finally return. Oh, the relief! She would no longer be at the mercy of Kapyn, the pixies, and this strange land! Ivan might have betrayed her, deceived her, used her as his means of escape, but the dragonfly prince could make what was lost to her hers again. She sighed in anticipation and smiled.

"I've heard of you," she said.

There was no expression of surprise on his face. In fact, she could read nothing at all there. He merely nodded once. "You must be a friend of the pixies," he said.

"Well, no," she answered honestly, as she stood. She didn't want to do so, but felt that to lie in the water and talk to him was somehow disrespectful. She wanted to make the best first impression. "I only overheard two pixies arguing."

"Tell me. I am interested in the thoughts of the pixies."

"There were only two of them. They were talking about – about how important you are."

"Important? Why should I be important to them?" His deep voice entranced Casey. She couldn't help but stare at his mouth, quirked ever-so-slightly as he posed the question.

"They said you could destroy their rock if they did not watch me as you told them to do."

There was a pause as the dragonflies around the prince rose from his figure in unison. He did not look at her. Was he embarrassed that she knew he had given such a command? She continued; everything she could recall of the pixies' interaction in her presence spilled from her tongue. "One of them said – I think it was Zifford – you had done it before." Casey thought a moment. "No, I think Zyri said it. Oh, I'm not sure."

"Tell me, Casey," he began, and her heart paused upon hearing him speak her name. "Does it trouble you that I have asked them to watch you?"

"I – I only wondered why. It didn't bother me really…"

"Don't you know why?" he asked meaningfully. Casey shook her head and something in his expression made her gulp. "Imagine," he began, "living in a place like this without companions – except, of course, my dragonflies." He smiled playfully and lifted his hand. The insects eagerly alighted on his encased fingertips. "And then imagine a soft, sweet maiden traipsing about the mountain, brought here by my little friends."

She gave a short laugh, flattered by his words and denying, "I'm not a maiden, I'm only…"

He slowly moved his arm toward her laden with dragonflies. They danced around her head and she laughed again. Self-consciously, her lips closed and she looked at him through her lashes.

"Casey, perhaps you don't know why the dragonflies brought you, but I do. And I am glad. I am – I am beholden to them," he spoke, looking deeply into her eyes. "Their choice suits me exactly."

* * *

**A/N: He's here. What are your impressions?**

**Iliana11: I just adore lists! 1. You may be right. 2. Me too. 3. Hm. That's all I'm saying. 4. Yay! It felt intense when I was writing it, but I can never tell if that is really being conveyed. Thanks for your lovely review!**

**Quiet Mindreader: I have a feeling you will guess where the story goes before I do. At that point I will be coming to you for plot advice. :D You've already anticipated the entrance of the dragonfly prince; so, your mindreading skills are still working, even on a bad day. Ah, "distracting the dragon" you say? Very astute.**

**Arista Everett June: I didn't get to respond to your first review, since I was posting the next chappie. But, oh, I loved reading it! So, you are an Ivan sympathizer. I suppose someone has to be. He's irritating to me; can't trust him for a minute. I'm glad you won't be hugging Kapyn. Not at all pleasant.**

**Hazelcloud: I admit to being interested in dragonlore. There are some fine sources out there, including advice from "authentic" dragon raisers. Kapyn did try to roast Ivan. - You just wheedled that out of me. :)**

**Jrmartyr: Thank you!**


	19. Glorious Food

Chapter 19 – Glorious Food

There was a long, eloquent gaze shared between them which drove Casey to the blush she tried so hard to suppress. What could she say to this? This prince was both gentle and sincere. His words were laden with compliments and latent expectation. What did he mean? Her heart thrilled at thoughts of love, and she reacted insensibly: she giggled. Then, horrified at her own inability to conceal her feelings, she glanced up at him.

"Are you hungry? There is food prepared," he said, and took her hand to lead her to a rocky wall beside the cleft where the water escaped downward. As they drew nearer, she saw how the cavern opened below; the ground slanted gradually, accompanying the mild, tripping waterfall which plunged into a pool at the base. Around it winged life of all variety. The dragonflies and lumins weaved in and out of the yellow pixies busily filling vessels. The dragonfly prince stood beside her patiently. "They gather their water here," he explained. "They are welcome to as much as they wish to take." He allowed her to go before him. As the meandering ramp descended from behind the rock wall, they entered a roofless concavity which had been hidden from view from the room above. She watched as great birds swooped down, taking the crooked handles of the water pitchers into their beaks to fly upwards, soaring toward the dulcet sky.

It was brighter in this part of the mountain; the height of the rocky cliffs surrounding them lifted their monolithic arms toward the dome of mist beyond. As her eyes perambulated over the grandness, she noticed a place set near the side of the pool. It was spread with the cloth of the satithrils and upon it were plump slices of fruits, neatly displayed hearts of vegetables, and new foods which invited her with their appealing colors. Casey's stomach rumbled in anticipation. She would hardly have noticed anything else if the crackle had not interrupted her thoughts. She pried her eyes from the prince's meal and saw, situated upon a simple rock a small fire. Over it had been set a small skewered beast, blackening and being turned above the flames gradually by a pixie of ivory. Her mouth watered.

"Is that meat?"

From the prince came a low chuckle. "Of course! Have the pixies kept you from dining on meat? They are very careful to see that strangers abide by their senseless rules."

"But, it isn't senseless when Kapyn might awaken." The prince scanned her worried expression, his own clear of any distress. He led her to the food lanced by the spit.

"You see the fire, don't you?" Casey nodded. "And the meat is cooking," he continued, drawing his face toward hers.

"Yes, but the pixies-"

"Who would you believe? Me or the pixies?" he whispered into her hair. They were close to the fire so that Casey could smell the whiffs of charring remnants there. She shivered as the prince's face brushed the top of her head. Had he just kissed her hair? She wasn't sure, but felt the electricity that sped through her veins because of his proximity.

He placed himself at the silken table close beside her and drew away the glimmering material which covered his hands, peeling it back upon his wrists like ruffles of lace. In the calm light, she found the color of his clothing to be tinged a deep blue. He chose a piece of fruit and brought it to his nose. Was he checking its ripeness? He offered it in his palm and she took it. The flavors burst upon her tongue; it tasted like the tartness of a berry with a slight hint of sweet raisin. It was delicious.

She took another fruit from the blanket before her. He watched her intently as she ate.

"It is good?" he asked, and she heard the genuine curiosity.

"It's wonderful. Eat some."

He shrugged. "It's not the same to me anymore."

She wanted to ask why, but her attention was taken away as four ivory pixies flew toward them carrying the roasted meat. Casey swallowed the excess liquid flowing into her mouth as it was lowered to the table. The prince pulled off a piece to give to her.

She ate it, chewing happily. It was real meat. It tasted better than she could have hoped. The work of the fire had given it a smoky flavor. She yearned for more.

When she opened her eyes, his seemed to be laughing. "You are so easy to please," he told her. "Just a little meat and water, and you are happier than I have seen you since you came."

Casey was not going to ask when he had seen her. She was far too eager to partake of the fare. She drew the roasted meat toward her, but looked up guiltily. He smiled. "Do you think I would stop you?"

She began to pull chunks off and stuff them into her mouth. While it had mattered to her to make a good impression before, the taste of the food was weakening her resolve. She was so hungry! Twice, the prince cleared her wet hair away from her face as she ate. She didn't know how much she ingested, but at some point looked down and saw how the bones of the animal jutted out, emaciated without the padding of the cooked flesh. Her stomach turned on her suddenly as the memory of Kapyn tearing at the hide of the oaty flashed through her mind.

"Uh," she dropped it back on the table in disgust.

"Is it not cooked through?" he asked with concern.

"It's just - I remembered something. I – I can't eat anymore of it." She pushed the beast away, and ate of the slices of vegetables instead.

When her hunger was appeased, she smiled sleepily. "What did you mean when you said the food isn't the same to you?"

"It's hard to explain." His eyes searched the stony floor as though trying to come up with a means of expressing his thoughts. He stretched his arm toward a dusty object behind her which she had not noticed was lying there. She could see it was a book.

"Do you like to read?" he asked.

"Very much."

"Then you know how it feels to devour a story, to raise your head from the last page with an insatiable desire for more."

She nodded, her eyes aglow.

"When one seeks perfected honey, all other nectars pale significantly." The prince lifted his eyes to hers quietly; his expression morose, indifferent. "You are tired," he noted as she settled her chin in her hand.

"You mean you never eat because it just isn't interesting?"

"I eat," he replied, "when I am hungry."

"I suppose we all do," replied Casey, her eyelids growing heavy. "If I had the pixies to bring me all this food every day, I suppose I wouldn't feel as hungry, either."

The prince began to remove the articles left from her repast from the cloth. Lifting it, he spread it beside the lulling sounds of the waterfall. "Rest. When you wake, we will speak again." Casey didn't want to sleep; she wanted to learn about the dragonfly prince. Yet, it was too comfortable just to stretch out and lay her head down. Soon she was peacefully slumbering. It was only a short nap. She was groggy when she awoke and all was darkness. The small fire was the only light, but for the sparse sparks of the lumins. She sat up, suddenly fearful of her surroundings. Where was the prince? Had he left her there? How was she to find her way out of the mountain?

"She is awake," said Zyri, but Zifford did not respond. "She must go to the steps," the pixie instructed.

Too sleepy to respond in speech, Casey pushed herself to standing and walked around the pool to the incline she had descended with the dragonfly prince.

"No, not there! She must follow me." Something about the pixie's voice sounded shriller than normal. She wondered why Zyri was the one speaking; it was usually Zifford who directed her.

She listened for the sounds of pixie wings and walked accordingly. Casey seemed to be climbing up the side of the mountain. The steps were somewhat steep. Leaning against the cliff wall for support, she was made more at ease by the lumins, giving her light to see the next step. Her leg muscles were burning and tired when her buzzing guide took a detour from the upward trek and brought her to a plateau.

"Ethel must follow me," Zyri explained as the side of the mountain where she stood was plunged into darkness. The lumins had deserted them on the open precipice, and Casey was forced to feel her way with her toes. It was a craggy plane of land which made her job of walking on it more perilous. She heard her guide's hum circle around her.

"What are you doing, Zyri? Where am I?" Suddenly, the pixie dive-bombed and Casey instinctively took a step back to protect herself. She lost her balance and slipped from the uneven slope. She scrabbled for the platform, her legs dangling over the edge, her fingers clawing the rock for something to grasp.

"Let go, Ethel," Zyri said coldly.

"No! Help me, I'm going to fall," she screamed, only vaguely aware of a rustling beneath her.

"Let go, Ethel."

"Help me! Don't let me fall! Zyri! Zyri!" she pleaded, gripping the ground vainly; for the little pixie had begun to pinch and kick at her fingers. It hurt terribly, but Casey clung to the ledge with all her might.

Something touched her foot. It was solid. She looked below her and saw a glowing red light which softly illuminated the large mass rising beneath. With one push, she used the unknown object to buoy herself back onto the ledge. She kept at an army crawl, refusing to stand, though she felt solid ground around her. She heard a rumbling, flapping sound and rolled to the side to find the snout of Kapyn rising before her, his ruby eyes gleaming in the midnight pitch.

She shrieked and the sound echoed through the night. Then Kapyn bore his girth upward, winging away.

* * *

**A/N: Casey has a little brush with death there… yet again.**

**Iliana11: Did the prince's conversation with Casey in this chapter make him less of a curious character? I definitely understand your feelings about Ivan. He goes to all the trouble of saving her in the beginning, and then leaves her to fend for herself. You really think its great work? I'm concerned I'm not describing things well. Thank **_**you**_** immensely!**

**Quiet Mindreader: If the chapter creates more questions than answers for you at this point, I feel very fortunate. I have this notion that to keep you guessing is a feat I will not be able to sustain for long. There's a little bit of info on the DP's ethereal garb in this chapter, but I can't tell you more yet. A few answers for your great questions: No, it is not the Zource. Oh, the prince is quite attractive. Mind influence? *whistles innocently* Ivan hasn't discussed anything with the Dragonfly Prince.**

**MertleYuts: I'm loving your immediate distrust! He's too unknown, too nice, too…something. Must be bad. :) Thanx!**

**Hazelcloud: I'm with you about a guy calling a girl a "maiden." It's very romantic. I see you think Ivan is too important to escape, too. Imagine how he would feel, foiled in his attempts to escape by readers who won't let him leave. Book characters have such a hard time of it. As always, your review made me crack a smile.**

**Arista Everett June: Now that I know tips 724 and 322, I'm curious as to the other tips for the romance writer. I could use them to keep from making other mistakes in this story, not to mention it would be hilarious. Admitting that socializing solely with dragonflies might make the DP's conversation skills a bit lacking, what's wrong with wanting a friend… who happens to be a sweet maiden – who hasn't told him her main aim is to go home yet? So, you're saying Casey fits with Ivan, because even though he's the rugged, ruthless type, there is something salvageable. Never mind the whole, "let 'er git et by ta olde drakk'n." *laughing* Seconds after I read your suggestions for songs, I listened to them and promptly added them to my playlist. You and I, we must be telepathically linked musically. I'm sure of it. :)**


	20. The Fat Lady's Fate

Chapter 20 – The Fat Lady's Fate

Flustered with her heart beating rapidly, Casey found her way down the steps. She could hear Zyri following but she didn't speak to her. She'd never listen to her again! Zyri was out to have her murdered, and in grand fashion by the dragon! Where was the dragonfly prince?

"Light!" Casey demanded shakily as she gained the narrow steps. The lumins acquiesced. She looked below, scouring the shadowy basin in the mountain. There was nothing left now of the fire but smoldering embers. All was silent but for Zyri's annoying wings and the warm, gurgling sounds coming from the waterfall. Where could he have gone? She scanned the area around the pool. There was a loose page near it. Had he left a note? She skimmed the sheet and found it was written in an unknown language. Glancing into the shallow water, she saw more paper lining the bottom of the pool. The water was clear but for the foaming swirls; and, beneath the ripples, she perceived where the pool's contents escaped.

She was alone and afraid. Her mind was reeling from the colossal visage of the dragon peering over the precipice with its glittering, kindled eyes. Would Kapyn come back for her? There was no real protection from him in the open cavity of rock.

Feeling vulnerable, she started up the path, climbing toward the inner room in the mountain where she had first met the prince. At length, she heard a distant voice, and perceived her name was being called. The dragonfly prince was waiting for her in the cavern above!

Before she reached the upper chamber, she realized with disappointment that someone else was calling to her. It was Ivan. At first vengeful triumph ran through her. He hadn't made it through the portal! Then Casey clenched her fists. She entered, ready to confront him for his betrayal.

"Casey!" he exclaimed, and she could hear the relief. "I heard you scream. I thought he had you."

"Who? Kapyn? Not at all." She crossed her arms as he took in her fresh appearance by light of the lumins. "I thought you had escaped through the portal, especially since I was distracting Kapyn for you." The last words she separated with deliberate bitterness.

He raised his eyebrow without a semblance of penitence. "You did a lousy job," he observed.

"Poor Ivan," continued Casey. "Even when he has his pawn to cover for him, he still can't beat Kapyn."

"Pawn, eh?" he grinned mischievously. "You're the worst pawn in the game. You can't do a simple thing right."

Casey's eyes were still cruel as her mouth spread into a hostile grin. "Oh, but I can. I can do more than you ever could."

"Yeah? How's that?" welcomed Ivan.

"You'd love it if I told you, wouldn't you." There was a tense pause before Casey spoke sharply, "Why are you here?"

"To rescue you."

"No, really. No more lies."

Ivan snorted. "I'm not lying. I was waiting in the cave."

"Where?" asked Casey, losing some of her anger to curiosity.

"What do you mean 'where'?"

"I mean, where were you? He scorched the whole place. How did you get through alive?"

"Ah. Well, you might recall there was a pile of dragon skin in the corridor -,"

Casey shook her head, her arms still folded. "You'll have to do better than that."

"In the face of dragon flames, there is nothing better than dragon skin. I've just had the incredible fortune of learning that today."

She shook her head slowly, but said, "Fine. I'll pretend that's how you survived, but just to hear the rest. How did you get past Kapyn? He went flying tonight."

"I stayed in the skin until he left." He held up a bloody mess from his elbow to his wrist. "But, I burned my arm trying to run for the portal when he heated up the corridor from the outside like he does."

"Tsk, tsk. So close to escaping."

Ivan's face darkened angrily. "The dragonflies had already gone back through. So, what about you? Enjoying your time here?"

"Immensely," Casey purred.

"Then I guess you don't need to be rescued."

"Why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're only waiting here until Kapyn figures out a way to take you off."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember the fat lady?" To Casey's nod, he told her, "Kapyn flew off with her. For all I know he incinerated her somewhere else… or something much worse."

"Worse? Like what?"

"You wouldn't believe me," he said.

"I probably wouldn't." She didn't give him the satisfaction of a willing ear.

"Come on. We're getting out of here," he told her imperiously, offering her the discarded jacket.

"I'm not leaving," determined Casey, though she felt anything but confident in her answer.

"If you don't want to become like that, you'll get out of here fast." He pointed to something lying at the edge of the flowing river. It looked like a limp white leaf.

"What is it?" Suddenly she heard Zyri's wings become loud and grating, as she bent over to pick up the object.

"My guess is it's her little tribesman," he pointed to Zyri, whose ivory figure was indistinct as it hovered in Casey's peripheral vision. Confused, Casey lifted the limp body into her hand. It was a small pale pixie. The head fell back, exposing the slit neck. Immediately perceiving this, she dropped the pixie's corpse in disgust. Zyri dashed by her ear and caught the discarded body in midair. Heaving the dead weight, she eyed Casey harshly.

"Hateful girl. She should have died instead of you, my brother." The anguish of the tiny voice caused Casey incredible guilt.

"Zyri, I'm sorry." The young pixie held tighter to Zifford's body, the head lolling eerily.

Zyri gave her a bitter laugh, her sharp white teeth glistening. "Ethel is sorry, Zifford! Do you hear? She is sorry you are dead! Oh, that makes it much better, doesn't it, Zifford?"

Casey stared at the grieving pixie pitiably until Zyri flitted out of her sight. Her eyes refocused on the figure of Ivan in the background.

"Are you coming?" he asked bluntly.

She was suddenly undecided, and fiercely angry with herself for letting him get to her, making her doubt her decision. Her resolve to sever all ties with him was faltering in the face of the real danger: that of her near-death encounter with Kapyn and now this proof that this place was no haven as she had hoped. Her eyes were directly on Ivan's, boring through his placid gaze. He was a liar and had manipulated her.

But what had she here? A dragonfly prince? Had he been real? He had to be! Didn't he? She looked down at her arms, the mud no longer dressing them. Casey remained irresolute only briefly. Whether he was real or not, he wasn't there now; and she was not going to wait around for Kapyn to return.

* * *

**A/N: To all members of ISG: Your hero has returned. **

**Iliana11: I'm always warning people about this. No one listens! Oh, sure everyone says, "look both ways before crossing the street" and "never try to catch a lizard by its tail." But, they always seem to forget, "Avoid dragon mind control." *huff* (Disclaimer: I'm not saying this is a correct theory.)**

**Quiet Mindreader: Yeah, she fell asleep because she was full and tired. You asked, "Why did the Dragonfly Prince leave her alone?" I can't tell you... yet. Now you know, Kapyn wasn't helping her back up. Your theory about the prince and Kapyn is… interesting. That's all I can say. Loved your thoughts!**

**Arista Everett June: I heard a rumor that Tip #152 or 3 (not sure) mentions never trusting an author to tell which characters will live 'happily ever after.' Case in point, in this chapter I killed off a character many found endearing. (Yes, I had my qualms about it.) No mistakes? lol I'm still writing this, so it's quite possible I may one day announce, "Remember Thon? Well, he's an elephant now." *Pausing to consider Thon as an elephant.* I adore your Casey/Ivan playlist!**

**MertleYuts: As far as sane predictions go, I'm still holding back some pretty vital info; so you are being wise in remaining flexible regarding theories.**

**Ohmothergrandma: The joys of procrastination. That is the coolest compliment, that you compared the intrigue of my storyline to published work. Mr. Wickham of P&P? Wow. (Jane Austen fan here.)**

**Hazelcloud: Thanks so much for telling me about the Casey/Ethel inconsistency. That was a mistake. Fixed now, I hope. "Scholarly gentleman," eh? Hold that thought. So, what do you think about all this 'Dragonfly Prince is Kapyn' talk?**

**Denad: Joining the ISG, I see. :D Ivan did find her, after all.**

**(reviewer whose penname is considered a link by ffn): So glad you love the story! Thanks.**


	21. No Promises

Chapter 21 – No Promises

They entered the dragon's chamber. The heat was stifling, and Casey pushed her face into the neck of the jacket she'd put on again. Ivan was pulling her toward the pit. She almost resisted, wondering why they weren't circling around it to make for the exit, when she perceived how the air wrinkled and steamed. Kapyn had left the corridor completely heated. "_Like an element_," Ivan had described it once. Her eyes were burning as she jumped down into Kapyn's bed. Her feet touched hot, wet objects which adhered to her soles. She looked up and saw a black mound among the scraps of animal remains, and her heart lost a beat before she ascertained that it was Kapyn's molted skin. Ivan held the scaly edge open for her and dropped it as she entered under the dark cloak. The tent of reptile skin was warm, but not unbearable. Ivan began working to enclose them from the calidity. She could hear a metal grating sound as the layer was tucked to her. Casey left off thinking of the texture of the underside of the decaying shell. She was standing in the bloodied aftermath of Kapyn's feasting, and her mind would not allow this heinous scene to register. This was survival and conscious thought could not dwell on distractions.

"This is the plan," Ivan's breath rushed into her face. For the first time she was grateful for his halitosis. It smelled human. "We have to carry this over us to keep the heat out and make it through." She began to move forward and he halted her. "Understand; if it lifts at all while we're walking down the tunnel, it will burn the skin off your feet. We'll move slowly and walk side by side. Keep the cover at your feet, but don't trample it. Left foot, right foot." He began to move and she quickly caught on, wondering how that large mass could be so light. She looked behind to find the majority of the discarded skin was still in a heap upon the paper-littered ground. How had he removed only a portion?

They traversed the pit in the cloak, which was easy to see through. The layer was so thin it amazed Casey that it could seal them away from the heat at all. She was able to see footprints in the splotches of blood which lay in puddles on the wrinkled sheets of paper at their feet.

"Wait!" she told Ivan. "Our prints. Look!"

She began to grab at the sheets and stuff them into her pockets. Twice, she lifted the dragon skin to retrieve the pages, and the heat hit her face painfully, taking her breath and exploding behind her eyes. Ivan didn't stop her, though she sensed his impatience.

Getting onto the ledge from the pit was a task, and the heat broke through again. It raised the temperature inside the canopy in seconds. They were heading toward the corridor. She felt Ivan hesitate beside her as they rounded the arch and linked her arm in his. "We can do this," she told him.

The one thought she could not entertain was of Kapyn's returning before they made it out. She concentrated on Ivan's "lf ft, rt ft" mumbling. He seemed completely immersed in his chant. For some reason she felt confident. They were going to make it out and with all twenty toes intact.

"We're almost there," she said once, though they were just over halfway. Ivan didn't seem to be aware of anything but his mantra. The last paces were painstakingly slow. They almost got out of sync, but kept their feet in the pockets of the dragging skin.

"Wait," he directed, when Casey began to remove the covering as they exited the cave. "We can still be flayed alive from a distance." His pace quickened the farther they moved from the mouth of Kapyn's dwelling. Soon he was running and she was tripping. The dragon skin rolled and twisted around her waist and neck. "I guess it's safe now," he said, his face still so serious.

She smiled up at him. "Ivan, can you believe it? We made it! We made it out alive!"

"Yeah." He didn't seem as excited as she thought he should be.

"What's wrong?" she asked, as he worked to unwind the scaly mass. He wrapped it over his arm. He was studying it intently, rubbing his fingers over the folds.

"Nothing."

"Are you keeping that for a special occasion?" she joked. She felt so free and happy at the moment, but couldn't account for it. She had the vaguest impression that something in the dragon's cave had muddled her senses.

"Yeah," he responded, his jaw tightening. "I am."

"Ivan, what's wrong?" She repeated, forcing him to look at her. "You've just rescued us. I feel like I should be saying 'thanks.' Still, I have a feeling it wasn't for my sake."

A half-grin approached his lips for the first time, returning him to the cynical Ivan she was used to. While his motives were never selfless, she warmed to the idea that he was at least being himself now and she could recognize him for what he was.

"You're right. Want me to tell you why I helped you?"

"Yeah."

"You have to give me your word about something."

Casey sighed. The light from the cave was growing faint and soon they would be in complete blackness. "What?" she asked warily.

"You won't go back to Kapyn's cave without me."

"I won't promise that. I'm going to escape." Determination was in her tone.

"I'll see that you escape; but you have to promise, while Kapyn is alive, you won't-,"

"While Kapyn's _alive_?"

"Casey." He gestured to the roll under his arm. "I can kill him." His eyes were wild, maniacal.

"Ivan… Um, let's think about this for a minute." She patted his arm, completely aware now that his thoughts had been far away from her on the trek through the corridor. He had been working through his scheme - visualizing his defeat of Kapyn - while she had believed he was under duress due to the situation.

"I know you are brave. I don't think it's a stretch even to suggest you have an addiction to adrenaline, but killing the dragon? How did that ever get into your head?"

"I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything; you just have to give me your word." Casey still hesitated. "Just trust me this once." To her scoffing reply, he added, "I got you out, didn't I? I didn't have to do that."

"But, you did it for self-preservation. I'm not sure why…"

"Okay, okay. I told you you're right. I'll tell you the rest, but I have to know you won't go back alone."

She shook her head. "Honestly, the thought of going back there ever again makes me physically sick, but… I'm not promising. I'm for saving my own skin now."

"We'll get out together-,"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one – Hey," she interrupted herself. "How am I going to get home?"

"You're not going to make it tonight. I'm letting you stay in my hut."

"I'm not so sure I'm agreeable to that arrangement, either. This has nothing to do with your motive for saving me, does it?" she queried with a suspicious look.

"I'm not sure what you're getting at; but if it's what I think, then you've got to be kidding. You're not my type. Even if you were, you should see yourself. Your lips are black and all puffy and split. You have no hair around your forehead and no eyebrows."

Casey reached up and to her chagrin found he was right. Kapyn had singed away an uneven path of hair on the front of her scalp. How had she missed that? "I have a receding hair line," she complained.

"Mmmm… more of an inverted Mohawk."

"Lovely," observed Casey sarcastically.

"You're more than welcome to wait out here until morning. I'm guessing Kapyn will return soon. Who knows? He might even keep you company."

That settled it for Casey. She followed him to the shelter. When he opened the door, he explained, "My side is there, and your side will be here."

"Let me guess: my side is the one without the bed."

"Well, you have the door," he noted, and she heard his rough feet shuffle across to the niche in the wall. She felt for the clothes in the corner of the shelter; and, removing her jacket, emptied the contents of its pockets to make it a comfortable addition to her little resting spot. She felt exhausted, but not tired enough to sleep. Though the jacket beneath her head was hot, she felt shiveringly cold with sweat. Her body wasn't fully adjusted to the humidity again.

She waited for Ivan to commence with a low snore before she crept over and found the soft material lodged halfway under him. She tried to tug ever so carefully. His hand clamped down on her arm in a pincer-like grip, almost scaring her witless. "Your side," he demanded, pushing her away.

Defeated, she lay back on the clothes, which chafed her skin with flecks of mud and pieces of sticks and dried leaves. He mumbled something which sounded like, "…need it anyway…" and she felt something flutter against her arm. Ivan had thrown her the soft satithril cloth.

Wrapping her arms in it, she grinned to herself. For the first time, lying in the darkness, awaiting the day to return, she was content just to be alive. Due to the closeness Kapyn's cave had introduced, her mind was acclimating to appreciate a different level of calm. The majority of her wakefulness was spent thinking about the dragonfly prince. Had the argument between Zyri and Zifford caused her to conjure up such a beautiful personage? She would not believe he wasn't real. He'd touched her, hadn't he? He had spoken with her. She absolutely had to know the truth! Was he the dragonfly prince or was he just a figment of her imaginings? She must wheedle the answer out of the pixies; that was her only way of knowing for sure. Her heart stirred at the thought of the prince's kind eyes, the way he had looked at her. She had felt the adoration in his gaze.

It was hours before her brain, rehearsing what had transpired in the past few hours, gave up and took a respite. Before that occurred, Casey came to a few conclusions: First, she was an idiot for returning with Ivan. All the same, she was glad to have left Kapyn's mountain; it had been horribly confining.

Second, in future she would be more circumspect in considering how to use Ivan. She would not take pity on him for any reason. He was merely a means of escape. She would certainly make no promises to him, especially about not returning to the cave without him in tow. In fact, she would no longer tell him any more than necessary.

Third, Ivan was going to tell her _everything_.

* * *

**A/N: I like this chapter's ending for some reason. I hope this gave a better understanding that they were still in the mountain where Kapyn resides. Remember Ivan says the water is in Kapyn's cave?**

**Ohmothergrandma: I'm sharing in your jig and uber gladness, and really sad for Zifford at the same time. There are times when my fingers fly of their own accord only to pause as I register what has occurred. I did that when writing the scene when Casey finds Zifford. Horrible, horrible.**

**Quiet Mindreader: I noticed you called him, "Dragon Prince." Was that slip Freudian? Casey's loose tongue began Zifford's trouble, but the pixie was a bit too talkative, too. It was his undoing. I hope to clarify that later. Your theories are so much fun! I'm almost tempted to use your predictions in the story.**

**Arista Everett June: I'm so sorry, dearest! Should we have a funeral for him and give eulogies over his virtual grave?** **We'll play your Zifford playlist; I know it will be the perfect goodbye. "…yet there is the tension of the relief of finding each other safe and still together in their adventure world." Very intuitive. Perhaps you will persuade me to like him, but I'm farther along in the story and can't. "…holding onto the hands of all the remaining characters trying to pull them away from the 'ledges' you might have lurking for them." A delicious piece of imagery that begs the query, "Why don't you have any stories posted?"**

**Iliana11: You and I both know your bouts of insanity are far more sane than my normal, everyday lucidity. I don't know how you put up with me as a beta. Yet, I feel I love you more with each chapter you send. What epic predictions failed? I missed that. "Something bigger is going on here that I cannot seem to predict…" Ooo, foreshadowing words those. Might be rather anticlimactic to end with, "And Thon turned into a rhinoceros," now.**

**Hazelcloud: Oh, absolutely loved that you noticed the paper. Paper is such an underappreciated item, don't you think? Casey trusting Ivan? Ha! Not a chance. A double chocolate chip cookie for you for perceiving that Casey's words put Zifford under scrutiny. I've already written more explanation about the fat lady, which will come soon.**


	22. The Trouble With Words

Chapter 22 – The Trouble with Words

Casey saw the light shining through the slats in Ivan's shelter much sooner than was agreeable. Shielding her eyes with the satithril cloth, she tried to sleep on. It felt like she'd only attained a couple of minutes of sleep before the day had broken. Groggily, she turned to view Ivan's bed and found it empty. He was already gone.

"I thought the door was on my side," she muttered crankily. Her muscles ached with tiredness as she sat up, combing leftover sticks out of her hair with her fingers. She felt the missing patch of hair and grimaced. She must look really ridiculous. Ivan had thought so. Her mind went back to the dragonfly prince's amorous gazes. He had not seemed to think her ridiculous. Was that proof enough that he did not exist? She touched her bottom lip and felt the hard shell break away slightly from the tender layer beneath. It stung and she left it be. The soles of her feet were stiff and blistered from the heat of the cave. This was not going to be the best day.

On the floor beside her makeshift bed were the nuts she'd taken out of the jacket the night before. She ate them for breakfast and wondered what had happened to the paper that had been stuffed in the pockets – the ones from Kapyn's pit. Ivan must have taken them, probably to bury the scent of the blood.

Opening the door, Casey had not expected anyone or anything to be there to meet her; and was less than ecstatic to find Thon raise his head above the tall grasses. "Hello, Thon," she greeted him warily. The python slithered up to her far too quickly, and she stumbled back on stinging feet, crying, "No, Thon! We're not friends. Not friends!"

Yet, the snake's motive was not to greet Casey with a gargantuan morning embrace. He turned his head, as though motioning to her to follow. She couldn't help but roll her eyes as he glided away. "This place is so weird." She sighed, and looked beside the door to find her shoes. "Thank you, Ivan!" she added under her breath, as she gingerly tried to slip them on. She wasn't sure whether it felt better or worse to wear them. On the way, she lingered to eat a few maddlepone kernels and quench her thirst with handfuls of berries.

Thon led her to the steps going down to the gorge and left her to find her way. She gave the Glader's pool only a cursive glance and hurried to the strait climb overlooking the gurgling stream far, far below. She took it stepping sidewise again; it wasn't a well-known trek to her yet. Swinging down into the entry cavern, she felt a pang at her wrist and viewed it in the thin rivulets of light shining down. The tree sap was gone and the cut had reopened with the pressure of her jump.

She rubbed it gingerly before groping for the vine that would tell her which way Ivan had gone. It led her through the same opening, the one she had traversed only the day before. She began the walk, and finding the corridor dark, called for lumins. They came from the cavern where she had waited for Ivan, but no one was in that part of the catacombs. She continued to follow the vine out of the familiar room into another, winding through forks and skirting deep recesses. In one cavity, a scene spun before her eyes as she took in objects hanging from the bulbous, stunted spindles formed near the roof of the cave. Creepers were tied around the natural indentations of the short stalactites, and from them dangled pale blue gladers. The fish were hanging like festive, round decorations, some of them turned a dried tan, and some with the thin, silver tongues flapping out of their open mouths. The fish themselves didn't make any motion at all; their eyes were glazed in death. As she watched, the pearly ribbons exiting their mouths came alive at intervals, convulsing in an electric flash of movement before relaxing again. Large drops of water broke free each time it occurred, causing the dripping noise she'd heard and hungered after. What kind of torture was Ivan working here?

The traveling vine didn't extend beneath the gladers; it detoured around another corner where there were scattered sheets of paper, some of them tracked over with dirty footprints. As she continued to walk through chamber after chamber, the papers grew in number. Soon she couldn't step over them, but had to stamp her soles across the tops of piles and piles of toppling sheets. Casey stared in disbelief. All this paper! Where did it come from? There was enough here to start a library. That was, if they could be organized into some sort of readable material. The way they were now, it was merely a trash heap. Unconsciously, she began scanning the pages for blanks, itching to write again. She dropped down on her haunches, pulling the vine down with her.

Immediately a tug on the creeper was returned. "I told you not to do that!" Ivan announced, entering from another anteroom. "Do you want to get lost in here?"

"I think I could follow a paper trail at this point," she remarked, smiling smugly at her own wit.

"You're wrong. Paper is in almost every chamber from here on. You'd walk for miles and miles and never find your way back."

"The lumins…"

"The lumins don't give directions." He held up the creeper, "This is the life line. Take care of it." She peered down at it closely and saw it was constructed of multiple stems of differing sizes, twisted together with some sort of brown, irregular-sized globules attaching them to each other. It was a rude substitute for a rope. "You have to come to the end of the vine at some point," she argued.

"So, I make a longer one. But if you break the vine-,"

"Okay, I get it. What is all this?"

"Well, some of it is interesting trash and some of it is uninteresting trash," he said. "Like, this one," he gestured to a small roll wrapped with a piece of vine. "It tells a story about a volcano that erupted with cold water."

"Huh? Is that possible?"

"No. Come in here." She followed him into a larger room where more rolls of varying sizes were neatly arranged. "This one," he said, touching his big toe to it, "tells of a mysterious winged man who seduces the village females." He skipped a few rolls and pressed his foot to another paper-bale.

"This one is an autobiography of a man's obsession with a red stone. He called it 'My Gnosis.' Do you know what 'gnosis' means?" Ivan didn't wait for her to respond. "It means knowledge. I'd have been obsessed with it too, if I'd been as stupid as he was."

"And this one," Ivan continued, "is a story of an animal with four legs, a tail, a wet nose, and lots of fur. Liked to lick the writer. It's over seven hundred pages long. The author was a genius - discovered a dog."

"All of these," he held out his hands to include the whole room, "are fiction. Now I grant it is evidence that someone was here – someone had to write these. But what they wrote about is what comes into question: were their narratives true?"

"A dog is pretty realistic," she observed.

"Yes, unless you are imagining the dog." At Casey's inquisitive expression, Ivan picked up the stack and shuffled through its contents, papers fluttering to his feet. "Here it is:

'_The creature calls himself, "Friday." Sometimes he likes for me to scratch him behind the ears. This takes some effort since he is not visible to the naked eye.'_

Ivan looked up, his head tilted in an obvious, 'heard enough?' look. Casey tried to keep a straight face, feeling sorry for the writer but beginning to snicker. Soon they were both laughing. It was relieving, and went on for longer than the humorous reaction the author's words would have elicited. Mingling in the laughter was the experience of being there, the abnormality of it all, the "Wonderland-esque" awareness.

"So, it's all fiction. Why? What's the point in writing it?"

"I haven't figured that out, but this is different." He was taking her into yet another chamber. Looking behind, Casey began to hold the lead possessively. How much deeper was this tour going to go? She became even more uneasy as the room opened up; it was the largest cavern she'd seen yet, bigger than Kapyn's dwelling. It inspired Casey with awe as she looked overhead. Her eyes alighted on the point of a stalactite directly above her. 'No, that would not feel good if it fell,' she thought and unconsciously gripped the plant-rope tighter.

The room was piled with sheets and sheets. It almost had a pattern, being so chaotically congregated across the uneven terrain. Ivan was walking toward her with a single page in his hand. Casey's eyes grew wide. "You mean to say that's the entire nonfiction section?"

"No. I don't know if what it says is true or not, but take it." He handed her the page and the moment her fingers touched it, she had to examine it. It was cool, as though made from metal. She rubbed her finger over the smooth surface, pressing her fingertips against the words. They were written in a different language, springing from the page as though newly etched there.

"Hey, I think I've seen this writing before. What's the paper made from?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ivan repeated, "but watch this." He took the sheet and began to fold it. It creased flat like paper, giving naturally, as though having already been bent the way he pressed it. He folded it smaller and smaller before opening it up again. "See?" he said, and Casey looked closely to find there was no wrinkle or change in the page.

"Wow. It's like perfect paper."

"Only you can't write on it. I haven't figured out how the words were put there, but you can't remove them. You can't stain it, rip it, or burn it. It doesn't rust and you can't cut through it."

"How would you know you can't cut through it? Do you have a knife?" Casey wondered. Ivan was silent, and she looked away from the sheet to catch his expression. It was a look she was getting used to seeing. It meant he was contemplating how much to tell her. "You _do_! I remember, you used it when the pixies-"

"No. The pixies confiscated my knife."

Casey's brow furrowed. "Then what did you use to try to cut this?"

"Never mind about that."

She saw the moment had come for her to begin the campaign she had worked out in her head the night before. "Look, the more you keep from me, the less helpful I can be. You know the old saying, 'Two heads are better than one'…"

Ivan was walking away from her. "Depends on how sound the mind you're dealing with is." He spoke it almost to himself, but Casey heard every word of it.

"What did you say?" She was incredulous at his arrogant insult.

"It's something you wouldn't be able to understand."

Anger flashed into her eyes. The words spilled out. "Oh, I see. My, my, Mr. Conceit. Don't let this little know-nothing weigh you down." She knew it was going to happen. She felt the lump moving up her chest. Holding onto the vine, Casey made a beeline for the exit.

"No, that's not what I meant," she heard him say as she hurried into the next room. "It came out all wrong," he said, as she ran past the gladers. The infuriation of being on the verge of tears caused her to allow a very vengeful thought. The entrance was in view, and, waiting until she was certain it was the front room, she gave a mighty yank on the rope-like plant in her hand. It snapped only an arm's length from her fingers.

"Contemplate that, Aristotle!" she spat and kicked the toe of her shoe into the notch in the wall with determination.

* * *

**A/N: And Casey just had a temper tantrum.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Yes, the papers _do_ have writing on them. I hope this chapter gave a small glimpse about that. "If [Ivan] were to kill [Kapyn], would the dragonflies stop… opening the portal?" Hmm… Wow. I can't answer that. :( I hope the fat lady doesn't try to sing. :D I know what happened to her, but I'm not sure when that info comes up in the story. Thanks!**

**Arista Everett June: "We writers are but humble storytellers of what our characters do and don't do." Oh, I agree! Yet, there is another sense in which I've had to make the conscious decision not to venture outside the boundaries of my moral code. I've dropped stories because of it. Those thoughts and images are there, but I choose not to follow them. Some writers consider that shallow writing, but it's not. Don't worry about Ivan; he's staying alive, at least for a few more chapters. :)**

**Iliana11: Sweet friend, I love reading your reviews and messages, too; not to mention reading your "Shattered to Ashes" chapters. (But I did mention it. tee hee) "I feel like there are some huge clues in this chapter and the previous one." You're right, and there are more here in chapter 22. I have such a big ego now. Thanks for the compliments. :o}  
**

**Hazelcloud: Yet another review from you which made me chuckle. You *knew* her plan would fail! How delightful that you could read her character so well!**


	23. Hate, the Bad Kind

**Merry Christmas everyone!! Part 1 of a double update!**

Chapter 23 – Hate, the Bad Kind

She heard his footsteps coming fast behind her as she scraped the wall with her other shoe, trying to find the second foothold. "What did you do? Do you know how long it took me to make this?" She could tell he was examining the separate ends. "I can't reattach this! I have to start over now!"

"What a shame," she observed spitefully, finding the next foothold and making it chest high with the ledge.

Realizing her action had been purposeful, his tone changed. "You little brat! You're not leaving." She felt him grab the back of her pant leg as she pushed herself onto the upper level with her arms. The extra weight of his pull twisted the skin on her wrist terribly. "Ow!" she let go and hit her chin, biting her tongue and busting her injured lip as she came down. Being directly below her, Ivan broke her fall.

Casey was livid beyond words. Holding her chin in one hand, she slewed round with a frustrated cry and jabbed her fist into his neck. She could tell by his look it took his breath for a moment. Incensed, he clamped his hand beneath her jaw and lifted her bodily. It was a helpless feeling which brought Casey to properly fear the consequences. As the prevailing emotion of regret came over her, he pushed her head none-to-gently against the wall. She didn't feel it so much as the tightness of the skin at her neck; adrenaline was still her ally. Yet, she had sense enough to know he was way too strong for her. Why hadn't she taken that into account?

He was speaking threateningly through gritted teeth. "You are going to fix this," he held up the end of the vine, "if I don't kill you first." She saw the cold lifelessness that clouded his irides as their eyes locked, her anxious expression reflected in his pupils. Then something flickered and she could see he'd found reason again.

He let her go and wiped his wet hand on his dingy shirt, leaving bright streaks of blood as he turned away from her. She breathed a sigh of relief and used the sleeve of her upper arm to rub off the thin ribbon of blood on her chin from her scab-torn lip. Staring at his back numbly, she felt too many emotions to react. Ivan began drawing in the creeper hand over hand. He broke the silence. "Why? Why did you do this?!" he said with more incredulity than wrath.

"I don't know," she mumbled, tenderly testing her lip with her throbbing tongue. The scab was still thoroughly attached to the other side of the wound on her mouth, so she tried to press the loose part back into place. It stung, and so did her chin, her wrist, and the back of her head. She hated him so much at that moment, hated that she had no power to fight him, nothing to bargain with. Thoughts of pushing him over the edge to a hungry Kapyn flashed into her mind; but, she shut her eyes in disgust. She couldn't do that… could she? Would he do that to her? Would he really kill her at some point?

She sulkily followed him out of the gorge to a thickly wooded region beyond her pixie rock. They passed a yawning valley with herds of cattle peppering the plain. Casey stared out dully, hardly noticing the vista below; but she returned to the present task when her leg became entangled in the thorny foliage on the trail Ivan was making. She barely caught herself by clutching the trunk of a smooth, white-barked tree.

"Watch your step," he said without turning around.

"Thanks," she tried to quip, but it came out funny with her swollen tongue deciding to lie low for awhile. It was even difficult to swallow. She weakly spit the excess fluid from her mouth, only realizing she was spitting blood after the fact.

Ivan saw the spittle fly and halted, observing the pinkish tinge left on a green leaf near the ground. He put his hand on his hip. "Now, I'm sure there's a purpose for making a trail of blood out here. Who are you expecting to follow us?"

Casey looked behind her anxiously. "It's just hard to swayyow. I 'it my-,"

His expression was enigmatic as he held up his hand, a gesture for her to stop explaining. Was he trying not to yell at her? She couldn't tell. "I' stop. I' stop." He turned around and kept walking. Then it occurred to her: What more could happen? Hadn't she been through enough? If her pathetic blood-drool brought Kapyn out of his lair, good for him! He was welcome to broil her. She was tired of this!

"Nah! I 'on't stop! I' spi' aw I want, 'oo heya? I' spi' aw…(pitoowee) I… (pitoowee) want!" She tried to spit again, but it only brought pain as she wrinkled the smarting skin beneath the scab. She turned back and began to retrace her steps.

"Caaaasey." It was a warning.

Casey spun around, mirroring his crossed arms in defiance. "I' goin' home!" she spat. It was the only way she could talk at the moment.

She didn't wait to watch Ivan's eyes grow hard with stubbornness. She was done with his tyranny; she was leaving.

"Nope!" He grabbed her arm and she yelped as the skin on her wrist tore. It felt like she had been cut all over again. She cradled it, coming around to face him. Her eyes held pools as she begged him, "Peas, 'et go. It hurts."

He looked down and saw the red, puckered skin. "Oh. That's bad." It was the first time Casey had examined it in full light.

"Wa's wrong wi' it?"

"It looks infected."

She moaned. "Nooo…"

"You whine way too much. Come on."

"No. I' not goin'!"

"The tree sap to put on that is near here, you idiot." She hesitated, wondering if he was going to trick her yet again. He read her quizzical mien. "I'm not lying. I tell the truth…sometimes." He gave a sarcastic half-grin, and it might have been charming if not for the smudges of mud across his short nose, the twigs twisted in his hair hanging down in his eyes, and the gunk in his teeth. She sighed, giving in. All the fight was gone out of her and she limped along.

"Come on, gimp," he added after awhile, waiting for her to catch up as she hobbled on her sore feet.

She stared hard at the ground, trying not to continue to pity herself. So many words he'd said were beating her up at the moment. Things like, she didn't have a sound mind; she was a little brat. He'd called her whiny at least twice now. 'So, what? What do I care what he thinks of me?' she reasoned within. 'It's not like his opinion matters.'

'Yeah,' she answered herself. 'His opinion wouldn't matter if he was the last person on-,' Casey snorted at where that train of thought had led her because, for all she knew, he might be the last human she ever talked to again. She thought about how meanly he'd spoken of the previous person he'd met there. What would he say about her? Would he tell the next prisoner trapped there, 'Oh, there was the baby, the fat, tattooed lady, and the crazy, brat-girl'? She eyed the back of his head. He was the selfish, lousy liar with a bad temper. Yes, if she ever survived him, that's what she'd tell the next –

She shook her head. Where were all these odd ideas coming from? Laura would tell her she was just tired, unstrung. She could hear her sister saying, "Get some sleep!" She replayed it over and over in her head; listening to that sweet voice, so clear in her memory. Her eyes searched instinctively for the position of the sun, wondering how late it was. But there was no sun by which to gauge the time.

She saw the tree stripped of its bark before Ivan approached it. The gelled insides were oozing from its green fibers. He peeled away a small piece of the tree's covering and scraped some of the sap onto it.

"Sit down," he told her. "I'm going to put it on your arm really thick and see if sealing it for longer doesn't give it a chance to heal."

"Wi' it ki' the infection?"

He shrugged. "I'm just guessing it's infected. I don't know what to put on an infection, haven't had one."

She looked at him in disbelief. "You haven't had an infection here?"

He shook his head and began to slather the sap halfway up her arm. She would have argued that she didn't need to be dressed in it, but held her injured tongue.

"Let's see your feet. They looked good and blistered this morning." She gingerly slid off her shoes as he went back to the tree for more sap.

"It works for burns?" she got out clearly, as he dropped a glob on the pad of her foot. It was cool and wonderful, but she cringed as he tried to spread it.

"It works for anything as far as I'm concerned. I've used it on my burns, cuts, stings..." He held up his arm, which she recalled as having had a substantial burn the day before. It was covered over with the opaque balm. "Here, you put it on," he said, when he touched a tender blister and she pulled her foot away instinctively.

He brought her more of the salve after she'd finished covering the first foot. "You need to let that layer dry, and then apply another for cushion." As she stretched out one leg and placed her untreated foot on her thigh, he added, "Which means you'll be here for awhile."

She looked up at him suspiciously. He said innocently, "I'm just saying, you'll need something to do. The vine-weaving class will begin shortly."

She rolled her eyes and relented. "Fine. Can I have more sap?"

He placed another bark-full in her hand before disappearing into the trees. 'This isn't bad,' she thought, touching the sap hardening on her forearm. It had been well-applied. She hoped it wasn't infected, but doubt clung to her wish.

* * *

**Iliana11: "I'm curious what Ivan tried to use to cut the paper...a dragon claw comes to mind…" Oo, nice guess; but no. That would be an interesting weapon, though. Have to keep that in mind. Cool; you caught the Hobbit/LOTR "my precious" nod! *grinning***

**Arista Everett June: Ivan **_**did **_**sort of try to apologize, didn't he? Hmmm. Do you think he felt bad for losing his temper with Casey in this chappie, too? I do. Oh, I love calling it the "story cave!" Thank you!**

**Quiet Mindreader: So many clues! Which are important and which aren't? Could that story be about the dragonfly prince? Can't tell. I've drawn a very lousy map. The gorge is near the center of the land and curves to the left. The dragon mountain is to the right of the gorge. Ivan's shelter is between Kapyn's cave and the gorge. To the south of Ivan's shelter (a good distance) is the pixie rock. Does that help a little? Oh, and Ivan's knife was taken after he tried to kill his own food the first day.  
**


	24. Steaks and Professional Braidsmiths

**Part 2 of the double update.**

Chapter 24 – Steaks and Professional Braidsmiths

He returned with an entangled bundle of long vines studded with monstrous briars, and threw them down beside her. Sitting on his haunches he showed her how to break off the thorns. "When you get finished with that, you'll be ready to make the rope." He went off again while she worked to pop the crimson-tipped spikes with her thumbs. It was kind of fun, picking them off one by one. It reminded her of popping bubble packaging. She'd almost completed the fourth vine when he appeared with another massive assortment of smaller creepers. They were a different variety, thinner and less hearty. "Almost finished?"

"Nope," she responded with a small smile.

"Are your feet dry yet?"

"Right one's ooky." She was shortening her sentences to keep her tongue from stinging.

"'Ooky.' Okaaay." He gathered more of the tree's secretions. "While you finish your feet and the vines, I'm going to try the pixies for a stronger sap; one that can withstand Casey outbursts."

She looked up at him and the word just came out: "Sorry." She didn't want to say it, but it was becoming a habit. He waved it away as he stepped over the vines. "It's over. I'd rather forget about it. I'll be back soon."

The second layer on both of her feet had been dried for awhile before she heard Ivan again. When he appeared, his expression was one of annoyance. "Pixies are the dumbest creatures imaginable!"

"No sap?"

"Oh, I got it; I had to use you to do it, though."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

She so wanted to press the question, but merely held up the vines sans thorns. "What's next?"

"Just hold on," he said, irritated. "I've got to figure out how I'm going to use this. It will have to be sparingly. They tapped off a couple of dribbles, and that was all. Oh, here." He pulled something out of his back pocket. It looked like a piece of bamboo, only it was red with vertical pink stripes, reminding her of a candy cane. "You open it with your fingers and chew out the insides."

"Oh, yay! Food!"

"Yay, food," he repeated. "I'm glad you're so easily amused." His remark, as he began to straighten out the vines, brought back the dragonfly prince's words.

"_You are so easy to please… Just a little meat and water, and you are happier than I have seen you since you came."_

As she worked at digging out the insides of the stick-like meal, she tried to imagine she was eating meat. "This is 'ike hard ce'ery," she observed, still dropping those tongue-activating 'l's.

"I think you mean, 'Thanks, Ivan, for bringing me food.'"

"Ah, yeah," grinned Casey. "I mean that. It's – it's defini'yee hea'hy. More nutritious than a hotdog." They both looked at the mangled red object, which did somewhat resemble a torn up hotdog.

"You're welcome. Next time I'll bring you a hamburger."

"Oh, yum. A hamburger…" Casey drooled.

"And a big steak with ribs, smoked brisket… Oh, just throw in the whole cow." Ivan bent over the vines. "Okay, begin at this end. We're going to make something like a braid to keep it together."

"I can make a better braid with four. It will be stronger, and makes it sturdier." She held up the thick vine to let him know which variety she meant.

"Alright. I'll need to get more vines for the extension." She couldn't miss the impressed note in his voice. He soon brought back additional briary creepers, and they worked together to pick off the thorns; she from one end, he from the other.

"I braid my sister, 'aura's hair 'ike this," Casey conversed, when the vines were assembled in groups intertwined in her fingers. Ivan was bracing the ends for her. "Her hair is 'ong and 'imp. It fa's out of norma' braids."

"I have no idea what you're saying."

Casey chuckled. "Never mind."

"How many sisters do you have?" he asked after she'd made a good start.

"One."

"I have a little brother. He lives with my mom."

"You don't 'ive with your mom?"

"Nope. My parents split up when I was eight. My mom had a hard time taking care of my brother – he has autism - so I moved in with my aunt and uncle and just ending up staying with them."

"What about your dad?"

"He's military – Navy – and he's remarried, but we do stuff together when he's around. Like the Trail." She was finding the long ropes more difficult to maneuver than Laura's hair would have been.

"Ho'd this. Have to…" She quit trying to explain as he held the cords and began to straighten the tangled vines below the plait.

"What about your family? Your parents still together?"

"Yeah. My sis is in coyyege. A sophmore." She looked up and smiled sadly. The subject was getting to her.

"You miss her."

"Yeah." She took the vines back, her face buried in the project, confusion working havoc with her mind.

"You're fast at this. I think it will be done before the light fades."

"I'm a professionu'," noted Casey with a twinkle in her eye.

"Professional braidworker or braidsmith or something."

Casey couldn't stand it any longer. "You're being very nice. I wish you'd stop."

"Stop being nice?" The look on Ivan's face conveyed his incredulity.

"One minute you're nice and the next you're mean. I can't keep up. You 'ie – lllie – and I don't know what to be-llieve anymore. When you're nice, it messes everything up."

"So, you're saying, you don't want me to be nice to you."

"I don't know what to expect with you. If you were alllways one way…"

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Think about it: Who is always nice or always mean? I'm just being normal."

Casey shrugged. "I don't get you."

"I don't get you, either. One minute you're pretty cool, and the next you're a cat ready to claw my eyes out. Or crying."

She crinkled her nose. Thinking back on how many times her attitude had changed with him - trying to depend on him, trying to forget him, trying to trick him, even considering trying to kill him – she could see his point.

"You play too many games. Why don't you just be upfront," he suggested.

Casey scoffed. "Me be upfront? Who's been the one llllying?"

"You haven't lied?"

"I don't think so. Not yet anyway."

"What about Kapyn?"

"What about him?" she asked. He stared at her for a long time. She dropped the gaze only to continue braiding. "Hollld this again."

"No promises. Nothing like that, okay? I just want the truth."

"Okay." Casey was completely dumfounded. What did he think she was lying about?

* * *

**A/N: Any guesses as to what he thinks she's lying about? Should I have included a translator for Casey's speech impediment in this chapter and the last?**


	25. Stormie's Story

Chapter 25 – Stormie's Story

"How soon are you planning to escape?" The question flew out of his mouth as though he'd been dying to ask it.

"What?"

"I know you talked to Kapyn." He spoke as the though the matter was settled, the indictment had been issued.

"What?! Kapyn talks?"

Every ounce of suspicion was fighting with his desire to believe her, all in the dirty wrinkles and smudges across his face. His probing expression compelled Casey to feel guilty without knowing why. "Stormie told me he talks."

"Who's Stormie?"

"The fat lady, the one Kapyn took."

"Ah. And something terribllle happened to her, you said," added Casey, hoping for more information and still trying to manage her bitten tongue.

"She was crazy. Crazier than you."

"That's comforting."

"She was messed up. Had this whole idea that Kapyn was a god and she was meant to be his – his mate or something. It was weird." He was shaking his head. "She got it from reading those stories. She believed all that stuff."

Suddenly Casey was getting a fuller picture of Ivan's distrust for her. This Stormie had been berserk and Ivan was wary of it happening again, thinking she was going to plunge over the deep end, too. That's why he hadn't told her of the writings or anything about the lady! She raised her eyes to him, shining with the epiphany of this new piece of the puzzle about him.

"Did she believe that invisible dog story, too?" she asked, going over the summaries in her head which he had described.

"You're not reading those stories," he told her suddenly. "I'm burning them as soon as I can make a fire."

Casey shook her head. "I can't see myself thinking there's an invisible dog or going Gollum over that knowledge thing."

"The Gnosis," he filled in.

"Yeah." She was over halfway on the vine now. "Pretty good?" she motioned to her progress.

"I can't say. I'm not allowed to be nice." She worked in silence for a bit, knowing he wanted to know more, knowing she had a little more information to give. Should she tell him about the pixies' dragonfly prince? Did he already know? Did he know what the prince looked like? What if she told him what had happened to her only to find it had all been in her mind? He would think she, too, was crazy. Was she? Was that a reaction to being here, everyone went mad? Were _all_ the stories in the catacombs of the gorge really the product of insanity, or could there be a true one; or maybe one with an iota of truth hidden between the lines?

"So…" she began. "Is that the big secret? The one you were trying to get me to promise about?" He nodded. "That's everything?"

"Yup."

"Lie," she challenged. "You said you got me out of there for self-preservation. Even if I had talked to a dragon – which I didn't," Casey repeated with a reproving glare, "that doesn't affect you."

"It does if-," he began, then seemed to remember something. "What about that whole 'I can do better than you' speech in the mountain? And picking up those papers? Who were you hiding our footprints from? You know something about Kapyn; you're a liar, too."

"It isn't a lie to keep things to myself." Her eyes flicked up to his face, almost embarrassed now that she had spoken so boldly about her means of getting through the dragonfly portal. She had put so much faith in something which was quickly becoming just a puff of smoke. He remained completely still, clearly astonished that she had admitted as much.

"If that's the standard, then I'm not lying, either."

A tense silence followed in which Casey laughed nervously. "Why do I feel like we haven't gotten anywhere?"

Ivan shrugged. His face was stoic. "I know everything I need to know at this point." He didn't speak to her again, although she attempted a few light comments.

"Are you sulking?" she asked, becoming irritated by his unresponsiveness. He didn't answer, but furrowed his brow in concentration as he smoothed sap over the woven portions of the plant-rope. "Look who's playing games now," she ribbed. It gained no rise out of him. They worked in silence until she reached the straggling ends of vines with no more to complect into the plaited line.

With finality, he said, "There. You're done. Leave."

"Ivan, you're the one-,"

"Don't start in again. You can keep your secrets; I'll keep mine. And I don't want to see you at the gorge again, got it?"

Casey huffed. "I have as much right to be there-,"

"Not when I -," Ivan broke in.

"….as you! Don't -," she continued.

"found it first. I'm -,"

"tell me where -,"

"…warning you," he ended.

"…I can and can't go. I'll go where I please!"

"You can go anywhere except the gorge. That's mine," he told her.

"No. It's not!"

"This conversation is finished." He looped the vine around his shoulder, turned, and walked away.

Casey would have screamed at him if it would have done any good. She picked up her tennis shoes and hurried after him. "Pigheaded mule!" she muttered under her breath. It didn't relieve her feelings at all.

* * *

**A/N: That heart-to-heart didn't end up bringing them closer together after all. I had a difficult time with the talking-over-each-other dialogue. While it sounds like that in real life, is it too jumbled 'on paper'? What do you think?**

**Quiet Mindreader: Sorry about running late. Decided to post two chapters at the last minute, so it took more time to prepare the next chapter. Still feel like it was rushed; but, hopefully, there weren't too many mistakes. (It isn't the beta-ed version; I'll go back and edit later.) "…but the gunk in the teeth? Ew. Okay, that ruined it." lol It's amazing the effect a little broccoli can have. No, they have not explored to the left of the gorge. *sly grin* Studying the timeframe, Casey only left the cave the night before. I know it seems longer. "Is there a good kind of hate?" Yes; hating wrongdoing. Our Creator does. Ex: Deuteronomy 12:31. Delicious reviews, my friend!**

**Denad: I don't know why talking with an uncooperative tongue is hilarious to me. I'm delighted you understood! Oh, I so want my characters to feel real. Thank you for the encouraging, sweet review!**

**Hazelcloud: I don't know where Casey gets her nerdy side. *innocent look* I kind of tried to show her pain and wounds as a reflection of the inner person. They were having this serious discussion, trying to trust one another, and she's spitting and dropping 'l's. Everyone has figurative speech impediments, limps, scars, etc. on the inside, making it impossible for any person to be wholly what someone else needs him/her to be. (There is one exception in the history of mankind, and so many still don't realize His sacrifice continues to be exactly what we need.)**

**Arista Everett June: Yes, it is ironic. She turns her nose up at him and becomes just as he is – distrustful and pitifully alone.** "**I don't trust Ivan, and I like him even more now after this chapter." You're incorrigible, my dear. I like that. :D Isn't it tragic that 'braidsmith' isn't actually a word?**

**Lady Thorne: "I bet he thinks the dragonfly prince has mystical powers and was willing to help Casey, or something else super far-fetched." You were right that he thought something was willing to help her. But Ivan doesn't seem to know about the dfly prince. Enjoyed your review!**


	26. Pixie Hospitality

**Happy, happy 2010!!**

Chapter 26 – Pixie Hospitality

She went to the reservoir for water before returning to her shelter. Picking up a filled wooden bowl, Casey tried to pace herself with the liquid. She really yearned to gulp it. It came to her, there with the bowl tipped up, that the pixies were quieter. Raising her head, she noticed they were watching. They were still, almost as though they were afraid.

"What is it?" No one answered, but her words spurred them into their usual, darting flux again. When she had finished the drink, one of the reservoir pixies flew toward her with another bowl.

"Casey requires more water?" asked the sun-drop-hued creature.

"I – Yes!" She took the second helping and downed it eagerly, fearful that the pixie might change its mind and take it from her before she could drink it all.

"The Waterbearer tribe wishes Casey to take this bowl for her travels," another yellow pixie addressed her, pushing into her hands the third filled container.

Casey stared in disbelief before thanking the creature. Nothing else was said to her. The pixies returned to their tasks, ignoring her as if they had never given any notice. She walked away quite befuddled by their generosity; never had they bestowed upon her three bowls of water instead of her one unvarying ration. What had brought on this change?

She walked home, tired and groggy, but careful not to slosh the contents of her bowl. Her stomach wasn't full by any means, and she began to think of the berries and icoto around her shelter. Hunger battled with fatigue; she expected to go out like a light when she finally reached her pallet. Instead, at the fence four pixies met her.

"Casey will come with us."

Again, the pixies had addressed her by her real name! Something wasn't right. "What's going on?" she asked skeptically.

"Come! We have waited for Casey. We have prepared food." The ivory pixie before her was familiar. Though she couldn't be sure, she thought he might be the one she'd spoken to on Kapyn's mountain. "Casey must follow and let us serve her." His buzzing led her to the other side of the rock. The pixie's side! She hesitated, but followed.

The pixie habitat was surrounded by a grassy, outstretched plain which abruptly dropped hundreds of kilometers to the distant lowlands Casey had seen while with Ivan. She was seated far from the edge of the promontory beneath a canopy of satithril blankets laced to wooden stakes with leather thongs. Beneath the stately pavilion, an assortment of fruits, vegetables, seeds, and berries awaited her. Only a handful of the flaxen-complexioned Fleshgatherers congregated beneath the covering, though she could hear the creatures, all of the same hue, winging by as she sat down to the banquet in her honor.

"We have good things for Casey. Good things to eat and more things. Oh, Casey likes meat. Yes, she will eat meat!"

From the side of the precipice a small troop of creatures drew up carrying a sizable portion, which looked to be a thigh of some beast, cooked and seasoned. "What's the occasion?" she asked, her eyes big with anticipation for the spread before her. Veggie hotdogs from Ivan didn't stand a chance compared to this.

"We have no occasion. Please, eat. Eat and be happy." Casey didn't need to be cajoled. Gormandizing on new dishes served by the six pixies, which they advanced as she emptied the old, she hardly gave thought to any motive of the tribe. She sorely regretted the state of her lip, but did her best to ignore it, along with her shrunken stomach's attempts to say it had had enough. Who knew when she would get the chance to eat like this again? The thought of the dragonfly prince's meal flitted through her head. Had her stomach felt this pained then? Truly, not even half of what was laid out before her had been given to her in the mountain. Yet, the gnawing uncertainty grew: had she eaten the day before or merely dreamt that, as well?

"Casey likes the food?" asked a female voice timidly. The small being perched on the edge of a hollowed fruit bowl. She nodded in response, still concentrating on chewing. "Casey is happy with our service to her?" continued the pixie.

"It's wonderful. I'm very happy," she elicited from the side of her packed mouth.

"And she will be sure to speak good words of the service of the Fleshgatherer tribe to any who might inquire?" spoke Zyri eagerly.

Casey halted in shoving more food to her face. "Speak good words to whom, Zyri?"

"Zyri does her job well watching Casey. Zyri does not leave the side of Casey," continued the pixie spy.

She began to catch on. Ah! So it was fear causing these pixies to supply this meal. Perhaps it had been a decree of the dragonfly prince, just as Zyri and Zifford had been ordered to shadow her.

"Zyri is a very good… um… She is very hospitable and helpful," said Casey, awkwardly attempting to mimic their way of speaking in the third person. "Tell me. Who is it that has asked you to do these things for me?"

"Zyri does not disobey the dragonfly prince," pressed the little being.

"Yes, exactly." She wasn't aware that the movement of pixie wings had become hushed around her until it resumed after she had answered. Had they truly been so concerned with her response?

"I am sorry about Zifford," Casey added apologetically, reminded of the pixie's caustic words the last time they had spoken. The fluttering ceased again. 'Uh oh,' thought she. 'Wrong thing to say.'

"We are saddened by Zifford's terrible accident," spoke the older pixie.

"Yes, it was a terrible accident," hurriedly added Zyri.

"Yes, terrible accident," repeated the pixies hovering around them. Their voices brought Casey to glance at each of them in turn. They were older pixies, solemn, male baritones intermixed with compassionate, soothing female tones.

Casey had opened her mouth to question whether Zifford's death had been accidental, but quickly closed it again and nodded. She felt her naivety acutely, which caused her a greater desire to be agreeable. Over the gossamer, flitting counsel before her, she could view the pixie rock. Having never been permitted to look on the winged creatures' home, it held a fascination for her. The cavern-like opening in the large boulder was covered in kempt trimmings of moss-laden swirls which traced lines in deep, spiraling designs. Between and beneath the growth, rune-like characters were etched over the surface of the rock. From this habitat the pixies hurried in and out, and Casey was aware that many of the tribe were hidden away. The ones in flight were relaying news of her conversations. Was she so captivating that her every word was being recorded and repeated to the others? Why did so many of the creatures remain unseen? Was she deemed that threatening?

Casey followed Zyri back to her shallow shelter as the light faded from the overshaded sky. She retired to her hard, flat couch readily. Before she nodded off, a thought caused her to return to wakefulness.

"Zyri?" She listened for the answering drone of the creature's pinions and asked, "Have I met the dragonfly prince?" She lifted her sluggish head from the flat bed to look toward the hovering pixie. "I mean," she added hurriedly, "I can't recall if he is a pixie or..."

There was no response for some time until Zyri advised, "Casey is tired. She must rest."

Casey pursed her lips, feeling ridiculous both for asking and thinking she'd get a worthwhile answer. Had she imagined him to be human? She absently scratched the edges of her sap-bandage and fell asleep before assaying how to better apply for the answers to her many questions.

* * *

**A/N: So, Zyri's back, and trying to keep her job. (I don't know that I will get a chance to explain where the pixie was, but you can imagine she was very grief-stricken about Zifford. I'll leave it at that. Maybe there will be an opportunity later.)**

**Iliana11: "And Kapyn talks…considering how he seems to have such human-like qualities at time…" The whole atmosphere of the pixie's forest with the tame animals - the way Thon acts - gives that same sense, I think. Remember that these are Ivan's theories, though.**

**Arista Everett June: "…a real gentleman would never a hit a lady for any reason" *nodding head* Ivan did have at least some sense of remorse about his behavior, though I doubt he would have admitted it. It's so weak and cowardly to hit a girl. As a book character, if I was told I had to go to LSC therapy, I'd much rather tell the truth. Yes, your exuberance explodes upon the review. In appreciation, here's a little piece of cheese :. for your mouse with good taste.**

**Quiet Mindreader: The Kapyn is the Dragonfly Prince Society lives! Unfortunately, what Casey is told is not always right. Not that Ivan is always lying to her, but he doesn't know everything, either. (Though he thinks he does.) I'm glad you're interested in the other side of the gorge. Thank you immensely!**

**Hazelcloud: "Telephone," exactly! I love knowing you're catching the details. The pixies certainly fear the prince, but the reasons for this haven't been fully explained. Ivan showed Casey only one piece of "super-futuristic" paper in the 'story cave.' So, all of the stories Ivan told her about were not written on that, but burnable, destroyable paper. **"**Are these stories what the DP reads in his free time, perhaps?" Oh, you may be on to something. *grin*  
**

**AngelsOfTheDead: I'm glad you're into the story! Thanks.**


	27. The Right Kind of Pixie

Chapter 27 – The Right Kind of Pixie

The dull ache in her arm awoke her in the morning. It occurred to Casey, as she examined it, that the soreness was not new; the throbbing had only steadily grown worse. How had it become infected so quickly? Her mind had not firmly grasped Ivan's ultimatums of the day before; for her thoughts immediately flew to the idea of going to him for help.

'That's not an option,' she told herself grimly. 'I have to deal with this on my own.'

Distrustful of her own sense of direction, she spoke aloud to her pixie trailer. "Zyri, I am going to the forest where the sap is. I am sure to speak very highly of you if you will show me the way."

"Fleshgatherers have no words with those of the Treelancer tribe."

"I need the sap! You do not have to speak to them; just show me how to get there."

Casey followed the hurried zip of Zyri's wings before discerning how she was traveling away from the valley she had passed when keeping up with Ivan. "This isn't the right way. Where are you taking me?"

"Casey wishes to have sap. I am taking her to the Lazegleaners. It is the strongest sap for building."

"No, I don't want that. I want the sap for my arm." Casey held up her wrist. "I need to cover this. I need it to heal."

"Heal?"

"Yes. My arm is – I think it's infected."

"What is 'infected?'" Casey began to explain, then reconsidered. Zyri, in midair, stared blankly at the limb and shook her head. "I don't understand the difficulty with Casey's arm. Does she mean it will fall off?"

"Oh, I hope not," worried Casey. "Look, I just need you to take me to the forest that runs next to the valley – that way, I think. You are going the wrong way."

"That is the territory of the tribe of Zall Treelancer. Fleshgatherers are not welcome to enter there."

"Fine; I'll go alone."

"No, Casey cannot! I must not leave her side." Zyri whirled around her head until Casey's eyes were crossing.

"It wasn't a problem yesterday. Why must you suddenly shadow me again?" she asked, heading in the correct direction.

"Casey must speak no word of that! She said I had served her well. She must tell no one I was not with her. If he should know-,"

"You mean the dragonfly prince?" Zyri's wings stopped their humming and she perched on Casey's shoulder.

"Yes!" The whisper in her ear tickled. "She must never tell. My home will be destroyed! Please, she must say I was with her all the while."

"I will, but only if you help me find my way now."

"But there is no good thing between our tribes."

Casey pursed her lips before saying, "You are very good at hiding. Why can't you simply keep out of sight?"

Zyri moaned before relenting. "Oh, I do not enjoy this. Humans are-," The pixie did not continue, but was soon humming to show the path to the Treelancers' territory.

They had not traversed far into the trees, brambles, and vines before Casey heard raucous humming, growing louder and coming toward them. She stopped and was almost convinced a freight train would break through the halls of trunk and verdure before the vacillating figures of nine pixies appeared.

"No Fleshgatherer may trespass here. Retreat or be wingtorn!"

"Oh, briars and thorns!" shrieked Zyri.

"I was here only yesterday, and none of your tribe stopped me then," argued Casey.

"We share no quarrel with those from Kapyn's cave; but any Fleshgatherer's trespass necessarily results in the tearing of wings without delay."

Zyri gasped, and Casey felt the small whiff of a pixie flying into the tangled hair at her neck, pulling at the tresses to be better hidden.

"I am only here for more sap to treat my arm. This pixie is – well, she's assigned to watch me. She has no choice-,"

"There is always a choice. Fleshgatherer and Treelancer, Briartamer and Stalkharvester: all have the means of deciding who they will serve. We are not fearful and will not keep company with the weaker tribes, especially those who would feed the dragon."

"We must feed Kapyn! If we neglect our duty, what happened to the Treelancer habitation will happen to us, Zall Treelancer!" squeaked Zyri from the back of Casey's head.

"Who speaks? The voice is familiar to me."

Zyri peeked out before zipping round to hover in front of Casey's nose. "I am Zyri, daughter of Zbori Fleshgatherer." The pixie spoke bravely, pride intermingled with tremulousness in her voice.

"News of the death of Zbori Fleshgatherer's youngest son has spread through the tribes. I grieve for him, daughter Zyri. Still, he and his are not welcome here." Zall spoke with finality.

"Can you at least give me sap for my arm?" tried Casey.

"Humans may come and go, but we do not serve them," Zall replied sharply. "Zyri Fleshgatherer, I should be doubly grieved to have the report given to the mouth of your tribe that his daughter has been wingtorn."

Zyri retreated from the guard of the Treelancers, fearful of being 'wingtorn'. Casey could hear the sound of her zipping wings ebb. The guardian pixies dispersed as though vapors in the air. Casey determinedly started forward, later finding it difficult to locate the trees with exposed sap; and when she found them, they were dried up and covered over. Desperately, she searched for new trees to draw from and found them. The trunks were different in color and texture. Even the way in which the sap was being extracted was not the same. She secured as much as she could on a piece of bark as Ivan had done; but the excretion of the trees was runny, not at all like the consistency of the day before. She made a pouch with her shirt and placed the salve-laden chunks of bark into it, quickly hurrying away. She only lost her way once, and found Zyri flying beside her soon after she reached the outskirts of the forest.

"I did what Casey commanded," began the pixie. "Casey will say I have been with her all along? She will say I was with her yesterday?"

"Yes, Zyri. You have shadowed me everywhere." Casey perceived the way the pixie flew after she spoke, creating a lighter, even happy-sounding, buzz. "But I haven't forgiven you for trying to kill me in the mountain!" she told her imperiously.

"Casey would not have died. Kapyn was waiting for her," explained the Fleshgatherer.

"Perhaps that is a comfort to you, but not to me! I don't want a dragon waiting for me off the side of a cliff, thank you!"

"Casey will go with Kapyn soon. She cannot fight it," instructed Zyri matter-of-factly.

"You sound like Ivan. Why, Zyri? Why will I go with the dragon? I don't want to have anything to do with Kapyn! If his cave was not the only way out of here – the only way for me to get home – I would go as far from it as I possibly could."

"That is why she will go with Kapyn." Zyri spoke decidedly.

Casey stopped walking to contemplate this. "Please explain what you mean."

"The ones who remain beside the cave are taken; the others cross the rushing waters."

"'Others'? Do you mean more humans, Zyri?"

"Yes," she answered shortly.

Casey's first desire was to tell Ivan that there _were_ other humans! As she thought about this, she said almost to herself, "It's nice to know you weren't trying to get rid of me at least."

"To be rid of Casey would make me very happy," admitted Zyri.

"I mean, you weren't trying to kill me, toss me over to my death."

"Oh. I should never do that. Then would he most certainly destroy my home." Having already discerned that nothing Zyri did was out of loyalty to her, this was solace enough until Zyri added quietly to herself, "Unless I was told to kill her."

* * *

**A/N: Pleasant little pixie, isn't she?**

**Iliana11: Ivan can be**** a complete jerk. Are complete jerks curable? Ooo, you're thinking about the Zource! Fun, fun. I am expecting to write more about it soon.** **"I'm thinking that not all of Ivan's theories are correct…" *nods head* Me too.**

**Quiet Mindreader: I hope this chapter made it clearer that Zyri was doing what Kapyn wanted on the mountain ledge. Was that what the Dfly Prince wanted? Hm. "don't cross Casey and don't speak too much in front of her." Exactly. I like your meat-taunting idea!**

**Lady Thorne: Hello again! Yes, what is it that makes the prince someone to be feared? I'm thrilled to know you are still enjoying this story. Thanks!**

**Arista Everett June: The questions are growing? Do you feel like any of them are getting answered? My beta asked me, after this chapter, "So, was Zifford Zyri's brother?" That had me scrambling, looking to see if I'd made that apparent. (In Ch. 20 she calls him "brother.") Please continue to let me know what you question; it's so easy for me to accidentally omit information I thought had already been explained.**

**Hazelcloud: "The inner librarian inside me is now crying out in horror at that idea." I feel that way, too. Don't destroy the stories, Ivan!! Sadly, he never listens to me. Ha! Food **_**does**_** persuade Casey. Poor Persephone. I do have a thing for beauty and the beast-like fables.**


	28. The Squeak that Betrayed

**A/N: My original goal – to write a 40K-word piece by posting two chapters a week – is almost accomplished. (No, that doesn't count the responses to reviews.) At this point, the story has a NaNo-style ending just to give it a conclusion; it's a weak conclusion which doesn't satisfy any questions.**

**So, what do you think: should I just use the weak ending (around 33 chapters) or do you want the story to continue and address the questions you've asked?**

Chapter 28 – The Squeak that Betrayed

Casey returned to her shelter, intent on treating her arm. She used the empty bowl the reservoir pixies had given her the day before in which to set the pieces of bark. Then she went to work, picking at the sides of the old sap bandaging her arm. The first brittle layers came off easily, but the rest were adhered to her arm. She could see the way the skin around the sap was festering, burning and tender. Casey's mind reacted rashly, forming vague, infeasible conclusions. What if it started oozing? Would she have to cut her arm off? Could she steal fire from Kapyn's cave to cauterize it? The pain wasn't that bad yet, but if it got much worse… Quickly, she scooped up the bowl and headed for the mud pit. The first thing was to get the used sap off. The mud would be a good scrubbing agent, she'd used it before.

When she reached the pond, nausea hit her as she laid eyes on the aperture of Kapyn's abode. She had been dreading the first view since her escape. It seemed like ages ago, but was less than two days. She tiptoed to the mire and sat beside it, hesitating to kick off her shoes when her feet were still blistered. The sap on her soles was wearing away, too, but afforded some protection still. Instead, she leaned over the muck and began slopping it on. She did not want Kapyn to smell her. As her stomach continued to flip-flop, she worked quickly, keeping one eye on the cave. She did not trust that her hearing would warn her in advance. Only the pain of removing the seal of sap from her arm caused her attention to be drawn away. She stopped after a third of the bandage had been peeled back. It was too severe to continue. She hadn't even reached the area around her wrist and the smarting limb was protesting vehemently. She slathered more warm mud over it, unconcerned with whether it was sanitary. Relief from the stinging – even for a moment – was the only object. She held her breath and continued to pry away the reluctant pieces. Again she quit, exhaling in anguish. She looked down at her forearm helplessly and the tears fell. Why had this happened to her? Why not Ivan? He relished wounds.

Her sniffles prompted her eyes to turn toward the cave again and back, determination to remove the sap renewed. It lasted briefly. The tortured cut screamed to be left alone. Casey resorted to another idea and began applying the newly-acquired, thinner salve on top of her half-uncovered skin. At first it seemed to vitalize the area, but the sensation was soon replaced with a shocking, burning pain which spread over every pore touched with the new sap. She plunged her arm into the mud, and when that didn't work, she ran from the mire barefooted and hardly aware of her smarting soles. She couldn't contain the shrieks of agony, falling to her knees in hoarse moans when the initial searing waned. 'Nope, not the same sap,' she noted wryly, once rational thought returned. She looked down at her arm and wondered what to do.

"Zyri," she breathed. "I don't know how to fix this. It hurts unbelievably."

"There is nothing to be done," spoke the pixie coldly.

"But I can't bear it. Please, you've got to help me!" Desperation intermingled with her plea.

"Humans have no concept of what can be borne," spat Zyri and refused to answer again, though Casey sat and cried in the same spot off and on for a time.

"I need my shoes," exclaimed the distraught girl aloud after wiping the tears from her face and coming to the realization that wallowing was no longer enjoyable. She returned to the mud pond to find two dark lumps, which she knew to be Ivan and Thon, in the thick liquid. Ivan turned his head when she approached; she saw it out of the corner of her eye, but refused to look at him. They both knew they were aware of each other. Casey grabbed her shoes without an iota of acknowledgment, the frustration of her injury and the remembrance of their confrontation the day before had caused her to feel hard-heartedly toward him. It was as though neither had any connection with the other at all, that each was entirely alone, though they shared the same daily experiences. The farther Casey withdrew from the quagmire, the lower her heart sank in her chest. Yet, she denied that she mourned the loss of his companionship, protesting with every step that she was happy to be free of his argumentative, judgmental, lying, big mouth.

It affected her, as she paused to put on her shoes in sight of the gorge in the distance: he wasn't with his treasured stories. An impish smile broke over her face; and, hugging her wounded arm to her side, she directed all of her energies toward reaching the catacombs with the stories. She hurried down the steps into the glader's alcove, and climbed the ledge as quickly as she dared to go, making an awkward leap inside without using her throbbing limb. The vine went through the length of the fourth corridor, as always. She picked it up, ordering, "Lights!" and skimmed each recess and grotto she passed. The gladers' tongues were still performing their erratic dances. 'He _would_ find it entertaining to dangle creatures from the ceiling until they croaked,' she thought captiously.

She knew she wouldn't have much time. Ivan suspected her of everything. He'd know she wouldn't miss the opportunity to return to the caves while he was away. She hurried into the room with the neatly separated piles, and began to stack them under her good arm. If only she had the jacket or something in which to carry them. Quickly, she tucked her shirt into her pants and began stuffing the rolls where she could fit them. The button-down was fitted, but her middle had shrunk. She tried to stuff the rolls around the waist of the pants, as well, but lost one as it slid down her pant leg. Dropping the vine, she picked up the stack of pages and tried to push it back down her shirt again.

"Lights!" exclaimed a voice only seconds later. It was distinct, though removed. He had to be in the first chambers.

Casey whirled around, looking for a place to hide. Absently, she bent down to pick up the vine, but remembered in the nick of time that he would feel the motion. She stepped over the creeper and tiptoed into the next room. It was the big cavern, the one where Ivan had shown her the perfect paper. Where could she go? What should she do now? If she stood her ground, he might blow up in anger or he might let her go; but he wouldn't allow her to have the stories. She tried to slip between two fat stalagmites residing in a craggy corner, but knew she wouldn't be well-hidden in the light – Light! How could she get the lumins to go away? Hurriedly, she attempted to wave them off from around her head. They dispersed and the chamber went dark. Maybe that hadn't been such a good idea. Now she couldn't see to know whether she could back into the shadows behind her when Ivan entered.

He was singing something. She couldn't tell what the song was because the melody didn't seem to deviate much. It was obvious he was tone-deaf. Huddled behind one of the cave's fang-like formations, she could see his illuminated head as he walked into the large chamber, moving toward a deeper region. "Well, it looks like she didn't go for the indestructible stuff."

Eying his shadowy figure in the bug light encircling him, she saw the disproportionate addition to his shape. Thon was with him. She swallowed nervously, the thought of the snake chasing her out raced through her overactive brain. Ivan was checking another recess now. Casey watched as his hand went up into an obscurely hidden alcove. "Everything is where it should be in here." What was up in that gap in the rock? She watched him until the stinging sensation in her good arm let her know she would have to desist in leaning her body's weight against the tired limb to peer between the two stalagmites.

Ivan and his glowing pate were returning, coming toward her again. "Let's see what she stole in my library." He was going to see her; the light would make her hiding place known to him now that he was facing her. Still hunched over, she moved behind another stalagmite; only to find, instead, that it was a narrow opening into a path-like corridor. She pressed herself against the wall as the lumin beams cast their uneven glare over the area. Curiosity touched her mind as she saw the hallway in the dim lighting, strewn with papers like a road of script leading into a deep, shadowy beyond.

She waited for Ivan's one-sided discussion to continue, but heard nothing. Would she have to wait it out until he left? Was there another way out of the cave? She didn't dare try it. She was not that eager a candidate for death by starvation.

The time seemed to creep by so slowly. There wasn't a noise to be heard and impatience got the best of Casey. She slipped from her hiding place cautiously, and walked toward the place she'd seen Ivan investigate. What treasure was hidden there? She stepped on the loose sheets on the cavern floor, sure of finding a foundation beneath in that manner of crossing the dark chamber. She crept to the wall where she had seen Ivan reach up to touch something. It was quite a stretch on her tip-toes, but her hand found the gap and patted the area for something wonderful, a mystery of Ivan's finally revealed! Her face dropped in disappointment as her hand rested on a stack of folded paper. Just more paper?

"Lights!" bounded from the walls in all directions. Her muscles tensed at the realization of her mistake. "I'd ask why you're here, but I don't really care. I just want you out again." Ivan's voice was nonchalant behind her. Casey tried not to turn toward him; but he walked around to face her, Thon's face swaying over his head.

"And you will not be taking souvenirs with you," he said, pointing to her lumpy shirt.

She slewed round, heading for the exit, when he grabbed her arm. The hurt one. The scream which ensued gave little doubt that the result had been pure agony. He didn't let go. "You're not taking those pages."

The sounds emanating her lips were shrill as she tried to evade him and received more painful tearing at her wrist. She reacted with her only weapon. Bearing down, she sunk her teeth into his crusty shirtsleeve. Thon's hissing face met hers before Ivan stepped back and slipped on paper, releasing her to catch himself. She made a run for it, rushing into the darkness, fearful of requesting illumination. Ivan was behind her. She didn't wait to orient herself, but sped through the forks on gut decisions. The wrong ones. As she circled, it was soon clear she was no longer taking the way out. Again, the thought persisted of calling for the lumins, but she rejected it.

"Casey, you don't want to get lost in this place. Trust me," she heard Ivan advise. His voice wasn't that far away. She'd be able to sneak out… later. He wasn't going to get his way this time. She pressed her back against the short wall and waited, hoping he'd leave.

"I'm telling you, people have died in here. I've found bones and markings on walls. This is no place to play games."

He always thought everything was a game. She wasn't hiding from him for the fun of it. He was keeping information from her. She had to know what he knew! What was it that brought people to write such crazy things? She needed to see if she could puzzle it out for herself.

"Remember the clothes; the jacket I let you wear? Even this shirt I have on came from here. I found them. Their owners were huddled up in places in this cave." The silence seemed to mimic his words. "You know what some of them were holding? Those rolls in your shirt, Casey. They were hugging them for dear life. Is that what you want to die for?"

"I want to read them for myself!" yelled Casey. "I want to know what you know!" The silence met her for a full minute afterward, her words ricocheting off the empty walls.

"Fine. I'll tell you what I know." He spoke conversationally. His voice was much closer. He was trying to pinpoint her position in the labyrinth. She pressed her lips together, regretting her words. "So ask me. Which story do you want to start with?"

She held her breath as his voice turned the corner away from her. "Well, come on; let's talk. You want to know about the stories, right?"

He was returning. She shut her eyes tightly as he drew into the smaller cove beside her position. "You want to know about the winged man? That was Stormie's favorite." Casey's jaw tightened at the innuendo. He was always assuming she was just like Stormie. His footsteps began to retreat.

"He was irresistible to the maidens. The ones he didn't take were driven mad. Know what he did with them? Sacrificed them to the dragons." Casey shut her eyes. From the moment Ivan had spoken the word, 'maiden,' she'd thought of the dragonfly prince. What if he was the winged man? No! He wasn't real at all! Neither was the story. Ivan was trying to upset her. She moved away from the wall slightly, attempting to keep a dislodged roll from sidling down her pant leg.

"Well, well." She jumped as Ivan's lit head came around the wall. "You know, your shoe squeaks."

* * *

**A/N: Squeaky shoes are such a bother.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Stormie did not go home; I can tell you that much. Zyri wants to be rid of Casey; that's her motivation. Kapyn is a serpent-like dragon. He has only two "arms" and they're not used to carry people. Hope that helps. I'm glad you're "delightedly confused" and not angrily confused.** "**So both Kapyn and the DP have the power and means to destroy her home…" Yes! But, it may or may not be indicative. I'm enjoying all of your questions, even though I can't answer them all.**

**Arista Everett June: My idea of pixies is not wholly gathered from mainstream pixie-lore. At least, I think that's the case. I knew that ffn took the additional letters out of your word, 'good.' That still drives me berserk when I review. Even a simple word like, 'hmmmm' has to be reduced to 'hm.' There's no indication of a thoughtful moment with 'hm.' Pet peeve tangent there. I love and appreciate your reviews!!**

**Lady Thorne: "Maybe a magical land that make them very happy until he eats them!" Hey, you're giving away my plot! j/k :D Fortunately, he's not fond of eating humans. Liked your fun 'theory', though.**

**Iliana11: I'm wondering if I should have given Zyri the role I have. There's a tendency with me to go into depth about all my characters. (You haven't noticed this from my beta notes in your chapters, I'm sure. *wink*)**

**fdskjki: Not telling. But, I'm glad you want to know.**

**Hazelcloud: There are many tribes of pixies. (Did I call them fairies somewhere? *wide eyes* Oh, I'm going to be banished forever for that.) "Although it would be hard to read as a dragon...which would go against what the DP said he spent his time doing." Lol!** "…**but other humans have moved...somewhere? like over a river or waterfall and are not taken?" Yes. You've got it.**


	29. Normal Crazy

Chapter 29 – Normal Crazy

"I'm not giving them up," she said breathlessly, clutching the sheets to her.

"If I have to take them, I will." He grabbed the front of her shirt, at the same time pulling her good arm away. She looked at him in shock. Was he going to go in after them?

"Don't you dare!"

"Then give me the rolls, Casey. I'm not backing down; you're not stable."

"Would you be stable if you were constantly being called crazy by the only other human being around?" She screamed at him.

"Rolls," he demanded.

Her eyes furtively sought some other solution, but found no other means of keeping the writings. Fuming and muttering, she dislodged her tucked shirt, letting the sheets scatter to the floor. "How would you feel if the only other human being bossed you around, wouldn't let you think for yourself - just kept telling you you were crazy -wouldn't confide in you..."

He was collecting the papers. "It's your own fault. I've given you ample opportunities to tell me what you know."

"I don't know anything, Ivan! I've been here for – I don't even know how many days it's been! But, I've almost been eaten by a big cat, had pixies follow me everywhere and talk about me – not _to_ me; arguing about some dragonfly prince I don't know if I've seen or not - been almost burned to death by a dragon, after I was forced to feed him by _you_ while you used me to get away!" Her eyebrows were pinched into a crumpled line. "I'm tired of being tricked by you, Ivan. I'm tired of feeling like I have to be nice to you, do what you say, follow you around saying, "I'm sorry, Ivan. I know, Ivan. I'll be more reasonable, Ivan." I'm a girl, you idiot! I think with my emotions!!"

"You said it, I didn't."

"Ahhh!" Casey pushed him, knocking the sheets out of his hands. "I hate you!" she screamed. "I hate your calm, irritating smile! I hate your know-it-all attitude! Sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes you're dead wrong. I don't know anything about what's going on here, I just want to know how to get back home! I want to go back to my family, and for everything to be normal again." She hung her head, and her forehead brushed his arm. She just didn't care.

They were both silent with the exception of her sniffles. "Who's the dragonfly prince?" he finally asked.

Casey inhaled bitterly, lifting her face to the low-hanging spindles above. Would he ever stop interrogating her? "The pixies said he was able to destroy their home. That's why they were keeping an eye on me- Oh, let me start over." Casey wiped her nose on the back of her hand, and tried again. "Okay. Someone or something called the dragonfly prince told the pixies to watch me. They didn't want to, but they did because they said he could destroy their home. He did it before."

"Destroyed their home?"

"Destroyed a pixie home. Not theirs. I think he did it to the Treelancers, but I'm not sure."

Ivan encouraged, "Go on."

"Well, this is the part that gets all messed up in my head. And if you say I'm crazy…"

"I won't say you're crazy."

Casey gulped and began. "Well, when I was in the dragon cave I thought I met him. - You know where you found me, where the water was? - That's when I thought – but I'm not sure now. He wasn't there when I woke up."

"Did he say something to you? What made you think it was this dragonfly prince?"

"He _told_ me he was the prince, and let me wash the dirt off in the water and gave me food – gave me meat. Cooked meat. And I fell asleep. When I woke up he wasn't there, and that whole thing with Kapyn happened."

"What happened with Kapyn?"

"Zyri tried to knock me off the ledge and Kapyn was there, but I crawled back up. Zyri told me he was there to catch me – she told me that today. You were right about that, but I never talked to the dragon."

"Maybe you did. Maybe your idea of the dragonfly prince was actually the dragon."

"Whaaat?"

"One of the things that keeps popping up in these stories is the dragons. I think Kapyn has the ability to make you think something is there when it's not."

Casey's mouth dropped open. "So, you think I was dreaming and it was really Kapyn making me think -,"

"Purely hallucination. The dragon preys on the mind of the victim with their most appealing fantasy. You happen to like princes." Casey was silent, contemplating this.

"Was he good-looking?" She nodded mutely. "There you go."

"So I _am_ crazy," whispered Casey after a minute, begging Ivan with her eyes to contradict the statement.

"Not any crazier than any other fifteen-year-old girl. Your fatal attraction's a handsome guy who lets you take a bath and eat. I'd be more concerned if you cut yourself and walked into the dragon's cave, ready to bond with Kapyn." To her shocked expression, he added, "That's what Stormie did."

"She cut herself? With what?"

"I don't know. She was all excited about some plan she had before it happened, but I knew she was out of her mind. Then she didn't show up here one day, and I caught her sitting at the pond. Her back was to me, so I couldn't tell how she did it. But, I watched her walk into his cave, and she left a trail of blood." Ivan began to pick up the sheets she'd knocked out of his hands.

"But that doesn't explain who the pixie's dragonfly prince is," she continued thoughtfully.

"True. You should work on that."

"How?" she queried.

"Well, now that Kapyn has a thing for you, the pixies are more likely to give you anything you want."

"Kapyn has a thing for me? Huh?"

"If he's working on your head, he's after you."

Casey shivered visibly. "I don't want him after me. And how do you know that for sure? Wait a minute!" She lifted her head to look around. "Zyri?" she called out. The familiar hum didn't follow the echo of her words.

"Pixies don't enter this cave," Ivan told her. "They sometimes fly around the gorge outside, though."

"That's strange. Zyri told me she has to follow me everywhere."

"Apparently not in here. Come on." Ivan handed her the vine and paused briefly as she moved from blocking the view of the corner. "Looks like you had good company," he said cryptically.

"What do you mean-," Casey gasped as her eyes traveled to a small pit only a few steps behind her hiding place. There, crumpled at the base of the indentation in the ground, was a rotting cadaver. She turned away quickly, reeling at the sight and loathe to let her eyes linger for details.

"I told you, though I was trying not to be too graphic." They were returning, following the pathway leading out. Suddenly, Casey stopped as she saw something move in a dim recess. Thon snaked toward them. Aware of her reaction, Ivan told Thon, "Thanks for waiting, buddy; but go on ahead. She's not going to want your help." The large reptile slithered through the dark corridor ahead of them, disappearing into the shadows again.

"Did you notice how his arms were twisted up, like he was holding something?" Ivan said, speaking of the dead man. He dumped the load of papers he was holding pell-mell on the floor of the cavern.

"Not really."

"If I'm not mistaken, he was the one holding the dog story." Ivan skirted the glader display, following the creeper. "And you can see how close he was to finding his way out."

"That's so awful. Couldn't he see any light from the opening?" Ivan stopped and waved the lumins away. "I didn't mean you had to try it on us!" she reproached in a whisper; then she spoke normally, feeling foolish for being quiet when the lights went out. "Can you see anything? I just see spots."

"That's something I've been considering. If the ones who were lost in the caves used the lumins, there was a good chance they wouldn't have seen the light from the outside anyway. It's always so dim in the sky to start with."

"Plus, that guy was probably following his invisible dog around."

Ivan gave a short laugh. "Yeah. Lights!"

* * *

**A/N: What do you think about Ivan's explanation?**

**Arista Everett June: So, you vote, "continue." Are you guilt-tripping me? It will never work. Seriously, I really cannot make up my mind. **"**I think the core of this story is about pushing a companionship/friendship to the limits." Very, very insightful. Thanks for running your fingers out of breath. I become practically giddy when I'm in the midst of reading one of your reviews; they just have that effect on me.**

**Iliana11: Another vote for "continue." Zyri's interesting to me, too! There's a whole storyline that revolves around her, but I question whether that should be told in the midst of this storyline. I'm leaning towards, "nope" at the moment.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Yes to both. She doesn't want the burden of trailing Casey. No pixie would. Zyri didn't lead her to the trees; the Treelancers didn't allow Zyri into their wood. What Zyri's comment means includes all the things you mentioned along with an allusion to a personal hardship which hasn't been told.** **And you vote, "continue," too? That really holds a lot of weight with me, but I'm still not certain. "Casey" is short for her full name, "Cassandra."  
**

**Lady Thorne: "I guess it's all those fairy tales getting to me." Oh, I know the feeling. Kinda fun, though. Are you saying, "weak ending," then add bonus stories? Cool idea, but it would be harder for a reader to find them that way, wouldn't it? I wish I knew what worked for me. Thanks for understanding.**

**Smiling Pancake: *laughs at name* Thank Arista Everett June for Eisley. She introduced me to their music. Now I'm hooked. If the invisible dog showed up, nobody would see him anyway, poor thing. :D Thank you!**

**Hazelcloud: Which is worse: wearing the squeaky shoes or hearing someone else's squeaky shoes? I can't decide. I really appreciate your advice. It's good. Very good. I'm rather pleased with the weak ending, but only because I'd be cool with saving the rest for an attempt to publish.**


	30. A Little Loyalty

**A/N: I plan to post updates once a week from here on. That way I can work on a sketch for continuing the story.**

Chapter 30 – A Little Loyalty

"Zyri!" Casey cried with her back against the wall, standing on the ledge outside the cave. It had taken Ivan and her a full ten minutes to work out how she could crawl back out with her arm in such a state - an embarrassing realization for a former fugitive. He'd finally boosted her up and let her scoot through first. Her arm was still stinging from dragging it across the entry as she'd scrambled to her feet.

The hum of the little ivory creature grew. "I am here."

"I thought you had to follow me everywhere."

Casey lost her train of thought as Ivan climbed out with Thon adorning him. He looked at her, clinging to the rock like an affixed barnacle. "I see you've found the ideal loitering spot. Have you ever looked down there?" He peered over the edge as he spoke.

Casey thought she was going to scream just watching him. With Thon's shifting coils around him, his whole body seemed to tilt.

"Please, don't do that, Ivan. You're freaking me out."

"If that wasn't your normal mode of reacting, I'd be touched you even cared."

The fleeting thought of using her foot to administer a gentle nudge to help him and his pal over hardly registered as Casey returned her attention to her winged shadower. "Zyri, is the dragonfly prince Kapyn?"

"The dragonfly prince is not to be discussed," responded the female creature rigidly.

"We don't want to discuss him. She's just asking if he's a manifestation of Kapyn," interposed Ivan.

When the pixie did not respond, Casey cajoled, "Was that who I met in the mountain, Zyri? Did I see the dragonfly prince?"

"Anyone can see him, if he wishes to be seen," was the little creature's response.

"Well, that makes everything clear as mud," remarked Ivan.

"Zyri," began Casey again. "You loved Zifford, didn't you?" Only silence replied. "Please, tell me who killed Zifford."

"Ask Ivan with his weapon which cuts through dragon scales," she said.

Casey looked up into Ivan's expression of amazement, the accusation suspended between them. "What does she mean?"

"Whoa. No way. I didn't kill any pixies. Thought about it. Often. But I didn't kill that little guy in the cave."

"What is she talking about, your 'weapon which cuts through scales?' That's true, isn't it? You have something. You as much as said it. Did you use it on-,"

"Wait. I wouldn't waste it on a pixie."

Casey gasped, frightened and distrustful. "It makes sense. It all makes sense! You killed Zifford to scare me, so I'd leave with you!"

"You can't really believe that. Casey - Casey, listen to yourself. You're letting a pixie – Zyri! Tell her I didn't kill Zifford!"

"Ivan should tell Casey. Ivan often tells her things which are untrue."

"Tell her the truth, Zyri."

"Casey doesn't trust Ivan because he lies."

"You rotten gnat!"

Casey, focusing on their conversation, had watched Ivan's reaction intently. Perhaps it was her own desire to believe him, but she quickly determined to give him the benefit of the doubt until she knew for sure that he was truly lying. Cringing inside as she anticipated the answer, she asked, "Zyri, did Ivan kill Zifford? I will tell the dragonfly prince. Tell the truth." Zyri was silent again. "I will tell him that you were not with me-,"

"Casey told me she would not!"

"If you will not give a straight answer, you must fend for yourself." Casey was surprised to hear the steadiness in her voice. "So, one last time, did Ivan kill Zifford?"

There was an obnoxiously noisy hum before a single syllable was blurted from Zyri's mouth. "No."

Casey turned to find Ivan looking at her, the frustration gone out of him. What strange emotion was in his eyes? She couldn't read it. "There," she reassured him. "You didn't lie… that time."

As she descended the ledge in front of him, she wondered whether she was becoming more proficient on the path or the confrontation with Zyri had made him kinder. He was even keeping Thon at a respectful distance from her! She knew the answer and it affected her to consider how this might change his future actions toward her. Here was the means of gaining his trust: proving her loyalty. Yet, how could she continue to prove that? And did she feel all that loyal? They might be friends again for the moment, but what would happen the next time Ivan became suspicious of her? Would he jump to conclusions as she had almost done, or refuse to be sidetracked and study the facts? It would be so much easier to make a pact to be trustworthy with him, to promise to be staunchly on each other's side. Yet, he'd left her to Kapyn's mercy once, and would have left her for good. Plus, if Ivan's theory about dragon-influenced delusions was right, he would have left her to be Kapyn's victim; and not the good old dead kind, it seemed. How could she even consider making herself vulnerable again? Ivan was the friend that made enemies look good.

She exhaled, feeling disappointed that her good deed had actuated no foreseeable benefit after all. She crossed the Glader's Pool toward the steps before noticing Ivan wasn't behind her. She looked back and found he was staring at her, his head tilted perplexedly. The snake had wound his way down, and glided away.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. But you just believed me back there. Why?" he asked bluntly.

Casey shrugged. "I really don't know. What Zyri said just didn't feel right." She began to retrace her steps, coming toward him. "I just thought about it. You couldn't do that; you couldn't kill a pixie."

"Oh, I really could." His face held a disquieted expression, as though he didn't deserve to be absolved from the act of killing a pixie he didn't kill. It didn't make any sense.

A series of zaps and a splash from the glader's pond caught her attention. She watched Thon's head bolt up out of the water. In his mouth was a fat, periwinkle fish flicking its charged tongue with vain, quick snaps.

As her wide eyes met Ivan's with surprise, he offered, "I want to show you something, but it's back at the cave. I'm guessing you don't want to go back."

Casey's face spread into a slow grin. "You know, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't. My arm is killing me. I don't think it will stay on much longer if I keep going in and out of that cave."

"_That's_ not overdramatic," scoffed Ivan.

"Maybe, but it really hurts. You can't imagine. It's like I think of everything through the pain. Like: how many throbs will it take for me to walk up those steps," she explained, pointing to the passage up to tree level.

"Mmmm. Or, how many throbs it will take to get to the reservoir for enough water to wash it; and how many more throbs to get the right sap?" Casey, who was nodding her head, sharply glanced up.

"You know about that other sap?"

"Yup. I was following you. Thought you'd be heading to the cave this morning for a chat with Kapyn. It took me a minute to figure out what you were doing with the mud. I thought you were agonizing over mutilating yourself, like Stormie. I wondered if you'd have the nerve - you don't have much of a tolerance for pain. Then I figured out you were trying to treat your arm. Wow. The sting of that sap must have been something! That stuff's like pouring lemon juice on a-,"

"You don't have to tell me," Casey said, wincing in remembrance. "I experienced it, remember?"

"Yeah. It was kinda funny, watching you hold your breath while you ran from the pond. Your eyes bugged out of your head." He was grinning.

"It was _not_ funny, Ivan."

"Well, maybe not to you." He shrugged. "Anyway, you obviously weren't interested in waking up Kapyn."

"Obviously. Now, can we go? The sooner I can get this off my arm and reseal it, the better it will be."

They moved up the steps. "I hope so. I don't know, though." He carefully turned her arm to view it. Even the slight pressure of his fingers gripping it felt like knife points. "It's pretty bad, and the sap doesn't look like it helped – the good sap, I mean."

Casey moaned. "Don't say that. It's got to work. Do you have any better ideas?"

"None. Told you: I haven't had an infection."

"That just amazes me! All the mud and you're so grimy."

"Just goes to show, grime has its benefits."

* * *

**A/N: Did you think for a moment that Ivan had killed Zifford? I'm guessing you ISGers weren't fooled.**

**My beta for this story is Tater748, who has been so supportive, encouraging, and helpful. She's one of a kind. That special beta – the one that lets you write from the heart and keeps you going when you're ready to give in to that vicious writer's block – is a rare and valuable gem. (I never want to take you for granted, Tater748.)**

**Arista Everett June: "Your attempt at indifference toward my influence/comment is proof my comment did spark your interest in continue!... You'll want to know what your faithful readers think of it!" *crosses arms in defense, then lets them drop* A scribbler can't help it when she develops a crush on her reading audience, can she? "He has a 'gotta be in control' complex." Yep. Totally unrealistic, isn't it? No one knows a guy like that in real life.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "I wonder why the pixies don't go in the cave. There doesn't seem to be another pixie tribe there to keep Zyri out...what is she afraid of?" No, there are no pixies in there at all. Oh, you are quoting the story back to me. How cool! "Was he really planning to speak to her again, and something happened to distract him?" Yes, the Dfly Prince had planned to speak to her again. Cassandra was one of your top names? *grins* I like that you can pester me with tons of questions, too. :)**

**Smiling Pancake: Hi! Saw your new account. Glad you've joined the ranks of reader/writer fanatics.** **"Why doesn't Casey and Ivan explore more of the forest and walk away from the dragon?" Great question. Zyri alludes to those who leave the dragon's cave in chapter 27. And there will be more about them, if this story behaves itself. Btw, has anyone told you your smile is contagious?**

**MertleYuts: Thank you for your vote! Glad this chapter answered some questions for you.**

**Iliana11: "Isn't it kind of frustrating, though, when other characters want their own story told?" Yes. I suppose it's the price we pay to give rein to a vivid imagination. Yes, Bridget and I have met! I can't wait to know what's in store next for Mari and Bridget… and Silverspark. Hint, hint.**

**Hazelcloud: Is publishing really as nice as this? I mean, I write what I want, when I want. I get these incredible, thorough, thoughtful, funny, witty reviews. You can tell I'm leaning more towards continuing. "When did we discover that Kapyn had mind control?" I think Chapter 29 was the first time the idea popped up in the story.  
**


	31. Inhuman Humans

Chapter 31 – Inhuman Humans

They walked on in amicable silence before Ivan mused, "I wonder if Stormie had any gashes turn bad." He shrugged. "I wouldn't have known it if she had; she had a lot of tattoos in red ink. Great camouflage, actually. I mean, she could have had all kinds of sores and I wouldn't have noticed them with all the designs. She had them going up her neck and all over both arms… and her legs. It was like she didn't have a body, just a drawn-all-over piece of canvas." Ivan was silent then. She could tell he was mulling over something.

"What're you thinking?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's dumb."

"So?"

He shrugged. "We're all written on, really. Everything we do - what we are, the things we think - leaves some sort of mark."

Casey considered this as they began to ascend the incline to the reservoir. "The difference is: everybody can't see the marks on the inside."

"Do you have a tattoo?" he asked abruptly.

"Are you kidding? My parents would kill me!"

Ivan shrugged. "I was planning to get one. My dad has a few."

"What would it be?" asked Casey. "A dragon?"

"After this place? No. It would just be 'Deanna.'"

"Who's Deanna?"

"I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count," he said with a 'pshaw.'

"Your wife?" teased Casey.

"Maybe. Someday. If I ever get out of here. You have a boyfriend?"

"I'd rather not discuss my love life."

"Because you don't have one?" he ribbed.

"Because I'm far more interested in discussing what's back in the cave. What kind of weapon is it? A knife?"

"I told you the pixies took my knife. It's – I made it out of gladers' tongues. They're like razors -"

"I know," interjected Casey.

"Yeah. I forgot that's what cut your arm. I've sliced my fingers on them a few times. Anyway, they can cut through dragon scales. Unfortunately, they are very flimsy, so you have to layer them to make them usable. I've been trying to put them together with the strong pixie sap."

Casey eyed him, unconvinced. "I have a hard time believing you're going to take down a dragon with a bunch of glued-together fish tongues."

"I'm telling you, glader tongues can cut through anything."

"Can they cut perfect paper?"

"Except that. I've made a sheath out of that paper… and a handle. The handle's not working so well. I'm looking for a good handle."

"Something tells me you haven't thought this whole thing through," asserted she, skeptically.

"What do you think I've been doing in the cave, filing my nails?" To her confused expression, he added, "I've had to wait for the tongues to dry. They are electrically charged, and you can't work with them until the moisture is completely removed. In the meantime, I've been studying the various stories, looking for methods to defeat the dragon."

"Ah… Hence the lovely garland of fish in the cavern."

"Yep. I've thought about this a lot, Casey. I do have a plan. It involves you."

"And the 'I've-told-you-everything' speech from yesterday means nothing yet again."

"I didn't give that speech. You made that speech."

"No. You said you'd told me everything!"

"Everything you needed to know up to that point." To Casey's exasperated sigh, he added, "I was just following your rule."

"My rule?"

"Yeah. The one about how keeping things to yourself doesn't make it a lie." He grinned irritatingly.

"Let's redefine 'lie' then," suggested Casey.

"No. You'll just end up changing your mind tomorrow."

"I won't," she stated.

"Riiiight." They had made it to the reservoir and the pixies' wings died down as they drew near the cistern.

Casey was granted two additional bowls of water, which she requested after drinking two bowls. "Why don't we just stay here while you get the stuff off your arm? If you should need, oh, five or six more bowls, they'd give them to you," spoke Ivan in a piqued tone as she turned to leave.

"It makes me uncomfortable – how they watch me, I mean," she whispered as they walked away.

"I've been here for almost a year and get the one-bowl-a-day treatment, while you are 'uncomfortable' when they give you four bowls for the asking because they 'watch you.' Traumatic."

"Don't be mad at me, Ivan."

"Look, you could ask for anything and it's like you're scared of them."

"I _am_ scared. I don't know why they are being so nice, and they could turn on me at any time!"

"Not unless Kapyn calls off the hunt."

"If he's hunting for me, don't you think he would have found me by now?" Casey lowered her voice. The words seemed almost like a dare.

"Oh, he has an odd way of chasing. I gather he works by causing you to come to him."

"That's sounds like something Zyri said. – Oh!" Casey remembered. "There's something I found out today: there _are_ other humans here."

"Yeah, I know. What about it?"

"You know! But you said there weren't any signs of men here!"

"No. What I said was: there are no signs of past civilizations. There is a clan of -well, I guess you'd call them men. They don't live on this side, and they are dangerous. They come here to raid the herds on occasion."

"So, you've seen them?" questioned Casey.

"Not on a raid. I just heard the pixies complaining about the damage. But, I have seen them from this side of the gorge. I got in a fight with a guy who came through a couple months after me. He ran off and I thought he was dead. Weeks later, I saw him again from across the gorge." He paused before adding, "I used to watch them fish. I don't think they saw me. I don't know how many of them came through the portal, but I'm guessing most of them did. They're wild – that's the only way I can describe them. They'd probably take you with them if they saw you." To Casey's frightened expression, he added, "But they don't come often, and the pixies seem to know when to expect them."

"They come to get animals?"

"That and water mostly, I think. I'll take you up the gorge where the bridge is some time. From there you can see the difference between the pixie side and that one. I don't believe any pixies inhabit that side. There are a few animals, like huge boar, that come to the edge every so often. It's probably much easier for them to come to this side to hunt pixies' herds. Much tamer animals, I imagine."

"Zyri said the ones that end up going with Kapyn stay on this side; the others cross the water. It's kind of strange that you've been here so long and haven't flown away with Kapyn."

"Guess he doesn't find me that interesting."

"Do you think it's because you're not female?"

"I have no idea."

"You know, I thought you were wild when I first got here. Why haven't you joined the ones on the other side?"

"If you ever see them, you'll know why. It's – they don't even look human in some ways."

"Well, I thought you looked like an alien."

Ivan didn't seem to take offense, and dropped the conversation on entering the maddlepone fields. They ate of the kernels and Casey sat down to work on removing the bandage over her arm. The coolness of the water felt so much better. The sap became more manageable and finally came off in slimy clumps. The cut was not at all pretty. Her arm was clearly swollen. Yellowed, risen pustules surrounded the red, puckered cut at her wrist. Embedded in the skin were finger-like crimson lines extending toward her elbow. "I can't believe how quickly this is spreading," spoke Casey as she motioned for Ivan to view it. He only shook his head, but his look confirmed Casey's fears: it wasn't going to get better.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, just describing Casey's wound made my skin crawl.**

**Smiling Pancake: You mean that's your real name?! (j/k) Yes, Ivan was innocent. ISG says, "Whew!" I'll check out your new story – Chronicles of Alderatera. Sounds like we might have a mutual love of finding the perfect names for things.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Well, Casey hit a tender spot, using Zifford to get Zyri to talk. It was a bit inconsiderate.** "**The Dragonfly Prince had planned to speak to her again? Was he planning to do that before or after he carried her off in his dragon mouth?" You know, I'm rather proud of myself that I haven't blabbed about the Kapyn/Dfly Prince 'conspiracy' theories. You've hit the nail squarely with your Zource comment.**

**Arista Everett June: "…the ISG is behind you, Ivan...continue to change for the better." Lol! Is that what he is doing? Yeah, Thon is scary cool. If you think about it, the fact that Ivan has a pet expresses two things about his character: Ivan's need for loyalty/companionship, and the other one I'd rather let you guess. Knowing what you do about Casey's messed up arm, you can see that things are swiftly going downhill for her. The 'secret weapon' isn't a priority at the moment, especially since he doesn't seem to have "a handle on" his plan.**

**Lady Thorne: They've stuck together through another chapter! Aren't you amazed? I know I am. Thanks!**

**Iliana11: "He always has to know everything because it gives him a sense of power and superiority…Is Ivan insecure?" Certainly, it can do nothing for his ego to realize he has no control over his life, his environment, his ability to go home. So, he makes it up as Casey's advisor. Very insightful, my friend.**

**heartxtime: You're back! Thought I'd lost you. Yes, "I'm An Ordinary Man" is the fuming-about-the-female-race song. It made me cry, I laughed so hard when I first heard it. But, I won't continue what we were PMing about here. That would be impossibly long. Yes, Ivan's "maiden" comment was pretty ominous. Hope you did well on your exams!**


	32. Something Indefinable

Chapter 32 – Something Indefinable

Trying to keep her mind off the pain, she forced herself to think about Ivan. He lay on his back between the flaxen stalks, scratching his scalp using his unkempt nails, black with dirt. "Maybe…," she began to muse. "I don't know. Have you ever thought that Kapyn might want you to think you can kill him?"

"You mean, like he's luring me on?" he grinned. "He's in for a surprise then."

"Seriously! What if that is your delusion?" she said, folding her legs to rest her chin on her knees. "You said my delusion was a handsome prince. What if yours is defeating a dragon?"

"One small difference between my delusion and yours, Casey: there _is_ a dragon."

"There _is_ a dragonfly prince, too."

"I'm reevaluating that claim." He told her, looking to the ambiguous sky. "I'm not so certain the pixies aren't playing along in these mind games."

"Yeah." Mockingly, she feigned agreement. "Pixies have to do something for entertainment." Then she laughed at him, "Ivan, they don't care enough about us for that. And I told you, I overheard the argument about the dragonfly prince."

Ivan clung to the theory stubbornly, saying, "Or they wanted you to think you were overhearing something."

Casey listened closely to hear if Zyri's flutter would change, wondering if the pixie had found Ivan's surmising irritating; but the soft sounds did not alter. It occurred to her that she had learned how to read the emotions of her little shadower through the motions of her wings. A prickly feeling rolled down her back. "I'm really tired," she admitted.

"Your cheeks are red, too." He helped her up and they ventured toward the forest for the sap.

When they entered Treelancer territory, Zyri cried out, "Casey will return soon? She will not wait until the light fades?"

"Of course, Zyri. I know better than to be out here at night. I'd never be able to find my way back without light." This seemed to appease the pixie, and she flew away as Casey followed Ivan.

He took her beyond the set of trees where they had previously collected sap, and they entered a thicker section of forest. She had to wind her way among the nets of brambles, and still succeeded in catching thorns in the seams of her pants and shoes. Her skin felt itchy. Keeping her arm clutched tightly to her side, its bareness causing her to be aware of every leaf that brushed the inflamed nerve endings, she followed him with her head down to keep from tripping. When they reached the copse of scored trunks, she was out of breath.

Ivan slathered her arm again. She didn't complain at all as he spread the salve over the pus-blistered cut, though even the weight of the glops was severe to her irritated limb. She had the sinking feeling it wasn't going to do any good, and that they were only pretending to keep from feeling powerless. He looked up, "There." He pursed his lips as he eyed her and she became aware that her distress from the ordeal of applying the sap was chiseled on her brow. "I wish I knew something better to do."

"Thanks." His compassion was almost unnerving to her. Unsettled by his display of concern, she felt a lump rise in her throat, the waves of self-pity so close to the surface. She swallowed it down. "I've got to get back to Zyri," she said, her voice cracking only slightly.

"Casey," Ivan's face held a very serious mien. "You've got a pixie following you around that knows stuff; but she's also untrustworthy, as she proved today. She's going to manipulate you. I would advise you to be rid of her."

"Yeah, I keep thinking that, too. But trying to be self-sufficient isn't working for me. Plus, there are benefits."

"If you mean the extra water, you'll still get that whether Zyri is with you or not. The groups of pixies don't necessarily work together…"

"Yeah, but I'm not talking about the water. I'm talking about other things." Casey's flushed face thankfully hid her blush. She hadn't told him about the food she had been served the day before. After all her complaining, how would he react to knowing she had eaten so well? Hurriedly, she added, "And the dragonfly prince might be angry with her tribe."

"If he exists. But that affects you how?"

"Well, I don't know; but I'd rather not get her into trouble."

"After the trouble she caused us, pitting us against each other?"

Casey smiled sheepishly, "It doesn't take much, does it?"

"Maybe not, but you need to be careful." They stood to return, before Ivan gave another word of advice. "Well, if you won't shake her off, you really ought to squeeze out as much info while you have a pixie to ask. Like some alternative ways to get around Kapyn and through the portal. Just curious; what did your dragonfly prince say when you asked to go through the portal?"

"I didn't ask," Casey replied with bewilderment. "Isn't that strange that I didn't ask about leaving? I was thinking it, but I never came out and said, 'can I go home now?' He was so nice and – something indefinable – I just didn't think about it."

"I bet I know what that 'something indefinable' was." She waited for him to explain, but all she received was a muttered, "Women."

She began to lag behind; she could tell the exhaustion had been magnified by the hike for the sap. The shivers were coming more frequently, and her feet felt clumsier than usual. Twice she stumbled over snarled vines; the third time she almost fell, but Ivan caught her. He drew beside her good arm. "Here. Put your arm around me."

"I'm okay."

"You're not okay." There was a note of fear in his voice that caused her tear ducts to twinge. She didn't want to die, especially now.

"It's just the heat," she murmured.

"It's not hot. It never gets hot or cold here." He helped her along in silence until he suggested, "I could amputate your arm, I guess, using the glader tongues."

"Yeah, then I could just bleed to death."

"Basically."

"I can't believe we're talking about this," she said weakly. "I was just fine an hour or two ago."

"It's in your bloodstream now," he explained.

"I wish it had happened with the nectar instead of this way," she said, surprising herself that she'd spoken the thought.

"I do, too," he replied, viewing the mist of light between the trees. "I've never figured that out. You were as good as gone that night."

"I had blood in my mouth when I woke up."

"I know. I saw it when you started to drink the water the pixies let me bring you. You hurled it instead. I thought you were going to puke your guts out. Literally."

"I don't remember that," mused Casey. "I don't remember you returning."

"You got really still after that, like you were dead. I called to you a couple of times; you didn't act like you heard anything."

"Wow. Hey... You didn't bring me that water in the middle of the night, did you?"

"What water?"

"The water I thanked you for. The water that tasted really good," she added, her pink face lifted to his.

"I have no idea what you're talking about; I was in my hut that night, like every night."

"Ivan!" Casey's eyes grew wide as she removed her arm from his shoulder and faced him.

He took the lower half of his palm and pressed it across her forehead, wiping the sweat on his pant leg. "What?"

"I saw him before the time in Kapyn's cave!"

"Saw who, the dragonfly prince?"

"Yes! That night. He was the one who brought me the water. It wasn't the same as what we get at the reservoir. I always think about it when I'm drinking the pixie water. It was like drinking – I dunno – something better."

"Come on. We need to get you to the pixies' rock." He lifted her good arm to help her along again. Casey didn't offer any resistance. The effort to organize her thoughts was too taxing.

Giving up on any further conversation, she felt a sense of peace as they walked along the path overlooking the valley. She and Ivan were okay for the moment. He – he was her friend! Wasn't he? "I'm glad," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as he anchored her hand around his neck.

"Good," he answered; and it didn't matter to her whether he understood what she had meant or not.

* * *

**A/N: Kinda nice scene there, eh? And, yes, I'm going to continue. Meaning, this story will not end at chapter 33, but I'm not sure how long it will be. Hear ye, hear ye! Those who are members of KIDPA (Kapyn Is Dragonfly Prince Association), say "aye."**

**Iliana11: Yes, Deanna is Ivan's girlfriend. She won't be following Ivan into the pixies' land, but she might be mentioned again later.** "**Is the Zource some ultimate healing water?" Wonderful question. The answer is: yes and no.** **"Are you going for some symbolism here?" I started this story with a 'just write to write' attitude, but you know from our animated PMing my inability to leave the Truth at the door. So, yeah, Christian allegory is teeming beneath the currents.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "…I wondered briefly if you would be upset that I had exposed your plot…" You know, I wasn't sure whether your attempt to cut to the chase was naively carried out or not so much. Now I know. *shaking my head* I'm glad you did. I've realized how much it adds to the communication – to know where a reader thinks it's going, to give others the heads up. It's kinda cool. Of course, when the theories begin a network of misleading info… Well, that actually illustrates one aspect in this story.**

**Arista Everett June: Tattoos. Are they an outward expression of an inner scar? Or just the result of a role-model's influence? I considered time travel at first, but decided that time should be the same on earth and the pixies' land.** **"…it's interesting the two main male character seem to be linked to an animal…" Indeed. It could be significant. I've changed Casey's appearance in my mind often, as far as hair color and eye color. That's why I haven't written that in yet, but I will.**

**Lady Thorne: Why am I reminded of that scene in Princess Bride when the albino is explaining to Wesley that he has to be healthy before he can be experimented on? *shudder***

**Backroads: You hit on some issues that really make me cringe; so I know yours is good critiquing. Thank you! I'll be editing yet again. "I believe that Ivan and the Dragonfly Prince are... wait for it... one and the same." There is something in what you say; but, as you pointed out, there are conflicts with the theory that they are the same person.**


	33. The Dinner Guest

**A/N: This is part one of a double update, since I won't be able to post next week. Enjoy!**

Chapter 33 – The Dinner Guest

"You've been decorating," he observed, as they neared the rock and he helped her climb over the fence. Casey noticed the addition immediately; a curtain was covering the front of the shallow enclosure. It was a dark, thick hide of an animal.

"Zyri, did your tribe hang this?"

"Yes," returned the pixie. "It will drive away the insects."

"First class pixie service," declared Ivan. "Must be nice. Well, I'll come by and check on you tomorrow. Bring you some fruit…"

She was pulling back the heavy pelt, noticing the matted, oily feel of it, when she saw something behind it had arrested Ivan's attention. Her eyes fell on the succulent spread of food awaiting her within.

"Is that what I think it is?" he said. It was apparent he didn't believe his eyes.

"Yes," she responded, attempting to keep the guilt out of her voice. Whether she had succeeded or not, it didn't matter. His mind was only on the pixie feast, and he didn't wait for an invitation.

"You get all this?" he asked, sitting down promptly. "Wait! Is that meat?! You have meat!?" He snatched it from the cloth and sunk his teeth in with gusto.

"Apparently," spoke Casey, before addressing Zyri. "Does your tribe plan to feed me like this every day?"

"We serve Casey at the request of the dragonfly prince." Casey waited for Ivan to give some kind of reaction to the pixie's admission. He was far too engrossed in devouring the leg of the beast in his fist. The delighted noises he was making were positively comical.

"Do you serve me at the request of the dragon?" Casey asked slyly, as she pulled off her shoes. She didn't have any appetite at the moment.

"Kapyn requests nothing; he only demands food for his own fat belly."

"What would happen if the Fleshgatherers did not feed Kapyn?" continued Casey, conversationally, wrapping the satithril cloth around her shoulders.

"Fleshgatherers are the most loyal of the tribes, for he would burn the dwellings of all the tribes if he were left to hunger," spoke Zyri keenly. "Treelancers have no gratitude. All share in the amity secured through my tribe's devotion to the feeding of Kapyn."

"This is amazing!" exclaimed Ivan, waving the half-eaten shank. "It tastes incredible. You have to try this."

"I'm not hungry," she replied apologetically. She was astonished at how little he heeded her conversation with Zyri. "Have you never eaten meat here?" she asked him.

"Not cooked."

"Ew. I didn't want to know that."

"Just raw fish," he elucidated.

"Still 'ew'," she told him.

"What? It's sushi!"

"No, it's not sushi."

"Well, it was protein," he said between mouthfuls. "Wow, this is just great! I'm beginning to think there is something to this dragonfly prince after all."

"I'm sure of it," said Casey, who had placed her aching head on her pallet and stretched out her legs. She felt like her skin was on fire; and not Kapyn's quick, incinerator-like heat, but a slow-moving burn that was threading through her body.

"Ivan," she whispered, and he turned to look at her, still chewing. "Will you stay here tonight? I don't want to be alone."

"Will they bring more food?" She gave a small sigh of exasperation. "I'm just kidding. I'll stay."

"Thanks," she said and closed her eyes, hoping for some small reprieve from the pain in which to find slumber.

A few minutes later, she heard Ivan tell Zyri, "Do you happen to have the other leg of this animal?"

"Ivan is not welcome here," she coldly responded. "Ivan should not have eaten the food prepared for Casey."

"I have news for you: she's not going to be eating much of anything if that arm of hers doesn't heal up."

"Heal? Casey uses this word. What is 'heal'?"

"Have you seen that nasty-looking sore on her arm with all those lines? It's a poison – like that nectar you lousy things told me to give her. It's spreading through her body, and all she can do is wait until it finally -,"

Casey held her breath. Her eyes were closed, but she knew he was looking at her. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

She opened her eyes. "Zyri, I'm dying," she said. "Tell your dragonfly prince I'm dying." Immediately, the creature's pinions became a loud, grating noise.

"What are you waiting for, Zyri? You heard her! You're supposed to do what she says, right? That's what the dragonfly prince told you, right?" The pixie buzzed out of the shelter. The room was quiet, until he said, "She knew. That vicious gnat knew you were – She was just pretending to be ignorant."

"She would love it if she could be rid me," spoke Casey softly, recalling Zyri's words.

"Well," Ivan got up, walked over, and sat down on the rocky floor of the shelter beside the foot of the bed. She was curled up, the thin material wrapped around her tightly. "Looks like you've done it again: found yourself another remarkable fix."

"This time you can't rescue me," she said in a small voice, her eyelids drooping.

She could have missed his fleeting reaction. The corners of his mouth dropped and he exhaled as he looked away. She felt as though someone had pinched a nerve in her heart; his unexpected response both hurt and comforted her. He would be alone again; and, whether he had wanted to or not, he cared. She continued to watch him, peeking out from beneath her lashes. His profile held no other ruminant expression. He merely looked like a sad little boy.

"Here they come to clean up after you," he observed, and Casey heard the pixies enter through a gap between the thick drapery and the stony wall. Casey studied the winged tribesmen as the remnants of her meal were retrieved. Their motions were so swift; their ministrations eluded her vision multiple times. "You missed a piece," Ivan called to them, but they ignored him and quickly flew out. He picked up the morsel and popped it into his mouth. She drifted off with the picture of Ivan mashing the foodstuff against his front teeth with his tongue.

She remained in a sleepless repose until deep night. Opening her eyes with a jolt, she lifted her head from the bed. She couldn't control her chattering teeth. Her heart was beating against her ribs relentlessly. Suddenly, a light flashed before her eyes, white and blazing. It was too bright! It was going to blind her! Yet, she didn't try to keep out the exploding shafts. She stared around the confines of her quarters. Ivan was sitting up, fully awake, looking off to the side. "Ivan!" she cried. "Why is it so cold?" The dazzling beams glanced from wall to wall in succession. The rocky enclosure appeared frosted over, like panes of slick, hard ice, the mortal chill closing in on her. "It's going to freeze us in!" she screamed. "Ivan, we have to get out!" He didn't look toward her; didn't move. Why wasn't Ivan doing anything? She could hear splintering noises. She turned and saw sheets of ice slipping down from the rock. There was water rolling in frigid streams toward her bed. "Don't let it touch me! I'm so cold, Ivan. We'll freeze to death!" She turned toward him, extending her arms. He had seemed so close only moments ago. She strained to reach him, her fingers only centimeters from contacting his shoulder. Still, he didn't budge. What was wrong with him? Was he dead?

* * *

**A/N: This would be a terrible cliffy… if the next chapter wasn't posted. But it is! Aren't you happy?!**

**Iliana11: A tendency toward BatB, meaning the literary theme. So, just generally speaking. I hope I use archetypes differently. *shrug* I'm terribly distractible, too, so I understand. :)**

**Backroads: "Actually a surprising amount of plot, or at least Ivan paranoia…" Oh, good! I hope some questions are being answered along the way. KIDPA founder, Quiet Mindreader, will be happy to know you're leaning toward the Dfly P=Kapyn theory. I cannot wait to introduce more prince and Casey interaction. (Yes, the title kinda makes you think he might somehow be more necessary to the plot that way.)**

**Quiet Mindreader: *chuckles* Yeah, you couldn't be naïve. I was trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. See if I do that again. :D "I'm beginning to think it's more complex than my initial theory…" Really? How so? I did a complete rewrite. Now I have an abundance of material that happens later. Am currently in the process of writing "the good stuff," the things I thought would happen in a sequel.**

**Arista Everett June: I knew you'd be happy with that last chapter. Ah, but this one just ruined it again!** "**I really think this place has tested Ivan to his limits." Not yet it hasn't. "…inside you aren't comfortable with who you are without changing the outside." I think I understand what you're saying. I don't think it's wrong to change the outside; there's a motive for everything. It's the reason behind the change - the heart's true purpose - that determines whether it was a good decision or bad one, imo. Is there a noble motive for a tattoo? I suppose it could be out of love or honor; but even those can end up being a mistake. I love how you are willing to share your thoughts on issues like this!**

**Smiling Pancake: I don't think I've ever said which arm! Left.**

**A Not-So-Clever-Cookie: Another KIDPA member! *bemused expression* Thanks.**

**Heartxtime: "It's like this story has its little world now." Isn't that amazing? Reviewers give a story facets; such as, detail and relatability, which improves the scribbler's pen. I am so grateful to have devoted, inquisitive, helpful reviewers like you!**


	34. Mind Effects

**A/N: Part two of the double update.**

Chapter 34 – Mind Effects

She tried to get up from the bed to go to him, but something forced her back down. "Ivan? Ivan, answer me! What's wrong? Why don't you move? Look at me!"

The tears poured from her eyes as she watched the floor pool with water and glaze over, frozen, snapping and shifting as it continued to fill the room. "Oh, look at me!" She fought to reach him again, and this time wasn't even able to move her hands. It was as though a heavy weight restrained her. "You've got to fight, Ivan! You can't sit there; you'll die! I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I wish you hadn't stayed! I wish I hadn't made you stay. Oh Ivan, _please_!"

A hot pressure rested against her cheek and it calmed her. She shut her eyes to the blinding room of ice, finding respite in the warmth. She felt the embrace of warmness around her hands, which were folded and pocketed against her neck. There was a distant, low, soothing sound, and she contained her weeping to concentrate on it. It grew louder until she realized it was right next to her. She felt the humid breath rush against her ear.

"Casey, it's just a dream. Nothing's after you. Come on, wake up. Don't be delirious. Come on."

"Ivan," she exhaled with relief. She felt his cheek against hers, the contrast of his body temperature making her keenly aware of how drenched she was in fevered perspiration.

His grip relaxed on her hands and he pulled away. The darkness was so thick; it was impossible to see anything. She could hear her teeth resume their former syncopation as the heat was withdrawn. "Stay close," she insisted. "I'm freezing."

"I know. You're sweating buckets. Your shirt is saturated. I'm going to give you mine." Casey vaguely grasped what he meant as he passed the material into her hands clumsily.

She clutched it and tried to feel for the buttons on her shirt. She hesitated. "Do you think you could go out?"

"I _knew_ you were going to ask me to do that! There is no way I can see any-! Yeah, it will take me a minute to find my way. I'll let you know when I'm out."

With a small voice she expressed her appreciation then set to work quickly after hearing his hushed, "I'm out!" The movements to remove her shirt were torture. Her hands would not cease from shaking. Thankfully, he hadn't unfastened any buttons on his shirt but the top one, and she was able to shift her head and arm through relatively smoothly, leaving her bad arm tucked next to her side. The effort took the last of her strength. The sleeve hung over her hand, and the neck gaped; but, oh, the residual warmth and dryness were luxurious to Casey.

Suddenly, the bright shafts of light streaked across her vision. She was suspended on a rickety bridge made of vines, taking strides toward the other side. The bridge swayed and dipped, her weight creating a hammock-like rocking as the rapids rose beneath her position in the center of the gorge. Before her a shadowy no-man's-land loomed. "Where I am?" she asked aloud. She turned her head to find the familiar verdant life of the pixie side. She had to turn around; she was going the wrong way! But, each time she attempted to change courses, the bridge would tilt and lurch threateningly. Her legs felt tired and wobbly, stiffly rooted to keep balance. She heard a loud thud; something big was coming toward her. She saw the water, a bright, tsunami-like mass of foaming force; and she was standing in its wake. Her eyes closed against the impact.

"Here," Ivan said, his real and living voice bleeding through the nightmarish reverie. A large, weighty mass was placed over her prone figure. She reached a languid hand across its bulk to test the texture of the object as he worked to adjust it, covering her legs and feet. It felt oily and rough. It was the hide the pixies had hung. "That should keep you warmer," he told her.

"Yes," she answered, finding immeasurable comfort in the midst of mind-wracking, icicle-like stabs in her chest and arms. Her mouth shuddered open for a yawn; but she refused to close her eyes again, staring into the thick nothing of the night.

"Now sleep," he said shortly. She felt the pressure of his arm resting on her leg, as he situated his head against her feet.

"Ivan?"

"No. Go to sleep," he commanded her with a groan. Then, just as Casey was feeling a brief release from the burning cold jabs and a cloud of heat rush over her, he relented. "What is it?"

"I need you to do something."

"Again?" he huffed.

"No, not right now." She pressed her lips together to steady her spinning head before she asked, "When you get home, look up my parents? Tell them I'm dead?"

He groaned again. "That's morbid. Why are you even thinking like that?"

"Please, Ivan."

He finally spoke. "I don't even know your last name."

"My parents… William and Saralyn Carroll… Clarksville, Tennessee… near Nashville. My address... 174 Hansel Court. A white house… gray trim."

"Wait, let me get my pen. I can't remember all that!"

"Carroll, 174 Hansel Court, Clarksville, Tennessee. Say it back."

"Carroll, 14-

"1-_7_-4."

"174 Hansel Court, Clarksville, Tennessee."

Casey sighed. "Thanks, Ivan."

"All right. Now go to sleep, Casey Carroll."

Sleep came and went for her through the night. The pain would not relent, and she found her half-dreams only disturbing. Many times she lay listening to Ivan's deep breathing, staring at the darkness just to keep from the fevered imaginings; yet, so grateful she wasn't alone. She lost consciousness as the morning light hovered dismally through the cloud-cover. When she came to again, her breathing was far more labored. She couldn't find the energy to move, but shifted her leg slightly. His head no longer rested there. Her interest quickly waned. She was too tired to look for him. She closed her eyes to succumb to another bout of coma-like depth.

~*~0~*~

"…drink it, Casey!" a small voice demanded. Casey opened her eyes, letting them droop before she could comprehend the vision before her. A mass of pinions were swarming around her eyes and something brown was in her face. Her head was wavering in mid-air, and her scalp hurt. Something was pulling her hair – and in more than one direction!

She felt the liquid creep over her lower lip, light and wonderful. She gulped eagerly, knowing the drink, craving the result it would give. Again, the familiar feeling rushed over her. The balm raced through her body, innervating sluggish action. Life! It seemed to breathe silently through her veins, swiftly reducing the piercing thrusts of infection, which had only moments before been on the verge of completely conquering. Yet, she could not keep up with the volume being poured. It's cool, satiny streams overflowed her lips and rolled down over her cheeks, chin, and neck. She instinctively swallowed another gulping portion, before choking on the inundation.

"Patience. Let her breathe. She is not strong." Casey turned her head to see a figure, cloaked in a filmy robe, standing in the far corner of the dwelling.

Her first reaction was to ask him if he was the prince, but she _knew_ he was. Regardless of what Ivan had said about dragon-induced phantoms, she was completely convinced he was real. But why was he keeping so far from her? Was he trying to hide? Again, the pixies lifted the bowl of liquid to her lips. Strange lights, dancing along the walls, caught her attention as the drink was offered. As the bowl was lowered again, the pixies pulled a cover over it; but she glimpsed a splendent glow before the elixir was concealed. Casey remembered the harsh lights that had torn through her vision the night before. They had been cold, while this light radiated warmth. "This drink - you gave it to me before," she ventured to the shrouded man. Her voice sounded hoarse to her ears.

"I can't let you die, Casey," he told her, and hesitated before walking toward her. She turned her head in the direction in which his attention was drawn. She saw the day was fully come. The fence, the forest beyond, had not changed that she could tell. Why was he being so cautious?

"What's wrong?"

"Being here is a danger to me."

"Why?"

"When you are well, I will explain everything. But now you should rest."

She allowed her eyelids to close, the trial of fatigue still present within her body; and with it an inexpressible sense of loss. Was it remorse? Why did she feel so sorry? Thoughts began to flash before her mind's eye: cruel things, but different from her dreams of the night before. They were very real; they were her thoughts, her own memories. She sobbed and felt the tears escape from the outer corners of her eyelids.

"Sleep and you will not be sad," he comforted.

But now Casey was being haunted by the thoughts of Ivan in the cave as he retracted the broken vine from the corridor. Oh, how she wanted to kill him! She saw herself pushing him down over the ledge into Kapyn's anticipating, blood-covered mouth. Sorrow enveloped her. "Oh, what have I done?" she cried. "No!" She hadn't killed Ivan! Had she? It was so very real to her.

"It will pass, Casey. It's a side effect of the drink."

"But I've killed him!"

"It will pass," he repeated, lifting the moist tendrils of her dark hair from her cheek.

"Where is Ivan?"

"You must sleep," he persuaded.

"My heart is aching, and I can't sleep until I see him!"

"Casey, he has followed the dragonflies."

For a moment the words held no meaning for her. Followed the dragonflies? Where? Then she understood, and the weight of her sorrow increased. The portal was open, and he was going to go through it. Without her.

"But I'm not dead," she expressed weakly.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Review your thoughts to me, please?**

**Backroads: You may thank my sweetest, most beloved beta, Tater748, for labeling a word in this chapter "very crunchy." I removed it. It was 'sudor.' *sigh* :o}**


	35. Not Fooled

**A/N: I'm back! Thank you for the wonderful reviews! They keep a scribbler going.**

Chapter 35 – Not Fooled

"Casey!" Ivan's tone was insistent. "Are you still alive? Wow, you're pale." She felt his fingers grasp her wrist. "I don't know if you can hear -," Her eyes met his as he looked up. "You're awake!" He was searching her face for answers, as she was searching his.

"I thought you were gone… through the portal," she said flatly, eyeing the tattered, gray t-shirt he was wearing.

"How did you know about that?" He shook the thought away. "We've got to hurry. I was going to move you on this." He gestured behind him. "It's pretty primitive, but I think I can drag it in behind me and Kapyn won't care. I hadn't figured out how I was going to get you through the portal; but, now that you're awake, I'll get you as close to the pit as I can. You'll have to run for it while I'm feeding Kapyn."

Casey lifted herself slowly to see a makeshift object sitting in front of the entrance. "You mean that's what you've been doing, putting that together? But - why, Ivan?" She felt unreasonably angry with him. "I was as good as dead. You knew it."

"No I didn't. Look at you." Even as he said it, she could see he was confounded by her instantaneous recovery. He scratched his head. "You - you look better."

"I _am_ better. Have you seen the dragonfly prince? He's here." She began to scan the area. "Well, he was. And the pixies gave me Zource water from this bowl," she said, picking up the empty wooden container nearby.

It was clear Ivan didn't know whether to believe her or to scoff. He reached out to touch the neck of her shirt – his shirt – and she looked down. There were clean white stripes through the collar and down the shoulders. "You got something alright. Looks like bleach. Your chin and cheeks have white streaks, too."

"Streaks?" Her hand went to her face curiously.

"We don't have time for this. We've got to get to the cave!" he told her. She pushed her feet into her shoes and he helped her up. Casey was immediately aware of the toil her limbs had undergone. She leaned against Ivan, feeling lightheaded.

The flimsy stretcher was a tangle of gaping vines wrapped around two parallel branches. It creaked in protest as she was deposited on it, giving her the feeling she wouldn't make it far on the contraption.

"Hang on. I doubt this'll be a pleasant ride."

"Where am I supposed to hang on?" she queried sincerely.

Thankfully, the litter stayed intact, though Casey's backside was sorely none-the-better for the journey north across the pixie land. They saw Kapyn's smoky billows of displeasure long before they reached the cave. Obviously, it was Ivan who was the holdup.

She heard his heavy sigh. "This is going to be a blast," he remarked sarcastically, dropping the tree limbs he was using as handles in front of his shelter.

When he returned, wearing the black jacket, he was carrying a bundle under his arm. Casey asked, "Do you think it's going to work, pulling me in behind you?"

"I wish I could say, 'It never hurts to try.'" He hesitated then gave her the bulky, grayish-purple mass. "Here. When we get to the cave, I want you to hide under it." She knew from first touch it was Kapyn's old skin. "Remember," he said, looking at her sternly, "keep yourself completely covered and don't take it off until – you're out." Casey knew he meant until she had escaped. Affected by his gift, she tried to catch his eye; but he avoided her gaze and turned away to pick up the handles of the conveyance. A lump rose to her throat as she pressed the scaly shell between her fingers.

They paused at the opening of Kapyn's dwelling for her to blanket the molted skin over her entirely. As Ivan tucked it around her, the fiery tumult escaping the top of the mountain abruptly ceased. "He smells us," Ivan told her. "I think this is going to work."

"Ivan, whether it does or not, I just want to say 'thanks'."

"You _should_ thank me. I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Well, I do with all my heart," she assured him. "At least, _most_ of me is thanking you," she murmured to herself, as the litter was dragged over the many cuspidated rocks at the entrance.

Kapyn eyes were on them when they rounded the arching corridor. He stared intently as Ivan approached, dragging Casey behind. The dragon extended his neck toward them, and she heard Ivan secure his hold on the branches possessively. Around his stock-still frame the dragon peered, tilting his neck to the right side of Ivan's head to get a better view. Then he puffed a whiff of cinderous smoke, which made Casey gasp. Again, the staves of the vehicle creaked in Ivan's tightening grasp.

Kapyn withdrew his massively wide cranium. His head swayed back into position over his two muscular limbs. Casey hardly had time to exhale with relief when Ivan began to walk forward. She could tell by his gait he was judging how far Kapyn would let him carry her before growing impatient that the feeder wasn't moving in the direction of the platform. Yet, she was not able to watch Ivan's advance, but had to trust that he was going to succeed, that he would push the dragon only so far without causing them both to be subjected to his wrath on the spot.

He lowered the handles of the stretcher slowly, and she could see the alcove in the dragon pit where she had once espied the etchings of the dragonflies. Only now it wasn't a wall of stone. The dragonfly drawings moved and swayed, as though suspended on a translucent curtain. All she had to do was walk through and she was free.

"Take care," was the goodbye he gave without turning his head; and he was on his way to the steps, taking them two by two. She saw him disappear around the climbing curve, and watched until his upper body reappeared above the overlook. Her eyes traveled to the tantalizing motions of the paper-thin veil, then to the platform, expecting an eager Kapyn to be situated before it. But he wasn't there. The dragon still inhabited the center of his bed. His head was raised toward Ivan briefly, then his body snaked round and stared down at her. Casey felt her heart stop. He wasn't fooled.

The window for the pixies' drop-down had emitted a soft light for sometime, but soon a four-legged beast filled it. Perhaps now that the food was on its way, Kapyn would forget about her! But, the dragon wavered only slightly, eyeing the animal momentarily. He backed away, his head pivoting from the platform to where Casey lay. What was he doing?

"Come on!" shouted Ivan, rocking the animal. The two sides snapped and the beast – it was an oaty – began to slide. But, Kapyn wasn't there! The dragon backed suspiciously against the far wall, blocking the portal. He shook his head, like a distrustful stallion, and blasted a threatening nebulosity of smothering smoke.

Ivan was losing the animal. She watched as the oaty fell, scraping against the rock before landing with a dull clonk in the paper-littered arena. It wasn't going to work; and if she had to take in another lungful of Kapyn's noxious breath, she'd lose consciousness anyway. She wrapped the thin cloak of scales around her frame and stood. With care, she attempted to walk steadily toward the dragon's pit. His wary gaze remained fixed on her movements.

She quickly glanced up to view Ivan, who was leaning over the ledge. He didn't call out to her, though she knew he was wondering what she was doing. What _was_ she doing? She wasn't even sure. She took in a deep breath and meticulously climbed down into the dragon's arena. The cloak became twisted under her shoes and she had to adjust it before she could walk again. Intentionally, she retreated from the dragon - away from the portal – tramping over the sheets of script toward the pixie-bitten beast lying on the ground. She looked back toward Kapyn, who, seeing her attention on him, shook his head again and extended his neck toward her. The idea had only been to test him at first, but now she felt certain. She moved toward her destination: the still-warm carcass of the oaty. Maybe the smell of his food would tempt him. The serpentine creature watched her as she stepped behind the fresh meat and paused. With cagey snuffs, Kapyn followed.

As he drew near curiously, she backed away. His wide snout pushed the carcass on the ground toward her. She stepped backwards as the force of his nudge slid the animal close to her shoe. He turned his head to survey her with one great eye, its iris a lifeless gray. The slit-like pupil was semitransparent with a burning, deep red filtering through, causing the faceted surface of his eye to glitter like a majestic gem. She stared into it, fascinated. The giant reptile lowered his head to the belly of the oaty and chomped down in one colossally powerful bite. Casey, stunned into immobility, felt the spurting of the dead beast's blood spatter the dragon skin. Kapyn lifted his head and dropped the dripping contents of his mouth at her feet – a portion of it flopping onto her concealed shoe.

Casey, shocked into hysteria, would have screamed the most frenetic, fire-provoking yell had she not been halted by an unknown voice… inside her head.

* * *

**A/N: The ISG wins again: Ivan didn't leave her. ****Was the animal blood description too much?  
**

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: Is the prince trustworthy or isn't he? He acts nice. He does things to save her life. So he must be bad, right? :)**

**Heartxtime: Yes, the pixies would take advantage of a weakness, if they perceived it. And, yeah, Ivan could have tried for the portal. This is a definite turning point in their relationship, but where will that lead?**

**Arista Everett June: You are right! The dragonfly prince summoned the dragonflies to distract Ivan. The pixies didn't need to tell him; he saw the dragonflies, compliments of the prince. *looks up sleeve and winks* I hope you aren't suffering too much from the cliffhangers. I'm very excited about your pixie story. Have you been able to write more of it lately? (hint, hint)**

**Iliana11: Casey did get the Zource…or bleach. :D Monty Python! My fave is, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" Okay, so it's not that original. It's probably for the best that I don't get to use it very often. Are you having some warmer days?**

**Backroads: "So can he really be this nasty creature?" It must be such a terrible burden to be so mysterious and handsome. Poor prince. *grin* "Flummoxed" is a great word!**

**Hazelcloud: A tube of mini chocolate upside-down 'w' candies for knowing Ivan didn't leave. I feel sorry for Casey and Ivan. One can't seem to go without the other! Never a good sign. I hope to post a longer conversation with the Dfly P soon.**

**Lady Thorne: If the Dfly P is Kapyn, then the portal would have been left unguarded for Ivan to go through. Was it unguarded? Also, does the prince want Ivan to leave or stay, or does he even care? Just adding more to your train of thought. Heh heh.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Now Casey is looking at Ivan through her lashes!" I wondered if that would come off sounding coquettish. I was trying to describe how she was looking at him, but trying to conceal it and pretend her eyes were closed. I need to go back and fix that.** **"Well, you could be changing the Dragonfly Prince's secret from what you had originally planned." True. Yet, I'm satisfied with where the story goes at this point. ****You had delusions of dishwashers? Please explain! "Or maybe he fears Ivan?" Hmmm…**

**Smiling Pancake: The Dfly P knows that Ivan left the shelter when he saw the dragonflies. Even Casey assumes Ivan was going to try for the portal. Yet, the prince didn't say he had escaped. Something to think about. Smiles to you!**


	36. Kapyn's Stare

Chapter 36 – Kapyn's Stare

She was staring into Kapyn's face again, enveloped in puffs of his bitter, lulling breath. Her mouth remained ajar in astonishment, as she listened to the words of the being before her. _"Do not cry out. Do not rile the beast."_ She backed away slowly, hardly able to take her eyes off the dragon's entrancing gaze, before tottering on her weak legs toward the closest outlet, the steps.

"Are you crazy?" Ivan was at the base of the stairs as she reached them. "What was that? Is he still following you? What an idiot! I never should have brought you in here."

"He isn't going to let me go through the portal, Ivan. Get the picture! And I'm not an idiot."

"I wasn't talking about you. Come on."

"Where?"

"Up the steps; it's the only way I can think to get you away from him at the moment." Her limbs weren't up to the task of climbing yet, so he had to half-drag her. She mustered the strength to take a few steps on her own near the top.

"What now?"

"We feed him, what else?" Casey huffed. "You got a better plan?" he questioned.

"I'm thinking."

"Like you were thinking down there? Don't bother," he told her as the lift clouded the opening above. He shoved the food down, and they listened to the familiarly gruesome feasting in somber silence.

Her mind was reevaluating what she'd heard, trying to find some explanation, loath to admit to herself that the dragon had talked to her. The words were so coolly spoken, smooth and sensible. Were they really Kapyn's thoughts? They had to have been; they weren't Ivan's. The desire hit her forcibly: she wanted to hear the voice speak to her again! Yet, she recoiled at the eagerness in her heart, the foreign idea teasing her sensibilities. Instead, she made herself consider the portal. There had to be some way to distract Kapyn. Logically, one of them should be able to make it through! "Here," she said, lifting the layer of dragon skin from her shoulders. "You try it."

"Try what?"

"Try to make a run for it. I'll do this."

"You can't even climb the steps on your own. You think you're going to push these deadweights?" The next offering was being lowered.

"Watch," she told him and positioned the lift. Its sides flew back and the animal dropped, slipping sleekly down the slanted rock. The chore had been more taxing than she had anticipated. Still, she pretended to rally her energies. "See? Now go." He hesitated. "Go! See if he'll let you through."

The urge to escape was clear in his eyes. Surely it was an opportunity he couldn't let pass! He made it to the edge of the steps and stopped, turning back. "No. I'm not going without you."

"Thank you for your show of loyalty. Go!" The exasperation she felt couldn't be suppressed. To avoid meeting his eyes, she looked toward the opening above as though intent on the dragon's fare.

"I'm not leaving you here. It has nothing to do with loyalty."

Neither of them spoke, and Casey pretended to concentrate on the next of Kapyn's courses. This time it was trickier for her; the laden lift was bulky and she was already drained from the first push. She tried to steer it toward the rock and almost lost it as the ends snapped. Ivan gave it the boost over the side. "See? You can't handle this alone."

"Ivan, I'm the one who gets four bowls of water! I'm the one who has a meal hand-prepared by the natives every day! And I've got the dragonfly prince. I'll be fine; I'm going to be right behind you in a couple of days, I'm telling you!"

"Who are you? Last night you were all, 'Oh, Ivan, don't leave me. Talk to me, Ivan. Tell my parents I'm dead!' Where's all this optimism coming from?" Just as he finished, his mouth snapped shut, grasping some understanding.

"What?"

"He's deluding you!" Ivan told her, his eyes bright.

"No, he's not. He's deluding you! I'm telling you to go, and you're refusing out of pure stupidity."

"Not stupidity. Stubbornness maybe…"

"Whatever. Why don't you just go?" Casey's face displayed incredulousness, while Ivan's was set. The mountain rocked and she stumbled backward a few steps. He reached out to steady her, placing the dragon skin on her shoulder.

"I'm not going. Sit down and take a rest; and while you're at it, give your mouth a rest."

"Ivan…"

"End of conversation, Casey."

"Ivan, Kapyn spoke to me."

She pressed her back against the rock, registering his dark expression through her filter of fear. Ivan turned away to give his attention to Kapyn's feeding. The stretch of time, not knowing what he was thinking, was interminable. Listening to the dragon's activity, he finally looked at her again. "I think he's done." Casey nodded. "And don't cry."

"I won't," she whispered, blinking away the tears.

Ivan headed down the steps without explanation. She watched his retreat until the craggy walls blocked her view. Would he leave her now? She wished he would. She hated herself, hated that she wasn't completely against the thought of hearing the voice again. Now Ivan knew she was just like Stormie. Kapyn was getting to her, and there was nothing she could do about it. She heard his hurried footsteps approach with ambiguousness. Kapyn would let Ivan through if she drew him away from the portal again, wouldn't he?

"He looks pretty content. I want you to hide under the dragon skin again, okay?"

"What's the point?"

"Just do it."

"No. He knows it's me." He took the scaly wrap from around her shoulders and attempted to pull it over her head. She pushed him away. "I said 'no'!"

"Look, you don't get it. He's done eating, which means he's a lot more likely to be sparking flames if he's awake."

Casey looked dubious. "So, how are _you_ planning to dodge them?" He shrugged. "Is it me, or is your savior-complex working overtime in here?"

"I think we'll both be better off once we get out of the cave."

"So, the portal's out?"

"Yep. He's not budging."

"How about this: you wear it, and I'll follow you out," she said, irrationally considering an attempt to run away. Perhaps it would all be over if she ran toward Kapyn screaming. Ivan wouldn't have to worry about her anymore that way. The impetuous, unrealistic solutions sifting through her brain exposed her mind's exhaustion. In this state she might do anything! She was grasping at mere threads of sanity, on the precipice of cracking.

"No. We'll both wear it, like last time." He spoke decisively.

Without any knowledge of it, her gaze held the puzzling admiration she felt. She didn't want Ivan to risk anything more for her. She wasn't worth it. Yet, the person beside her, offering her what was rightly his own protection from the dragon, had been willing to protect her - even to free her! As he helped her down the steps, the opposing emotions tore at Casey's consciousness.

Cautiously, they peered around the base of the platform. Kapyn seemed to be resting, his reptilian girth nestling peacefully across the concave groove where the dragonfly portal beckoned. "How fast can you move?" asked Ivan, shifting the dragon covering. The edge was ragged and no longer hid their feet.

"Not very. My legs feel like Jello."

"We'll see how far you can manage."

Just as they began to trek the circumference of the pit, Casey felt her knees give way under her. Running toward the dragon hadn't really been an option, after all; and knowing it relieved her. She turned slightly beneath the cloak to espy Kapyn's deep plum eyelid open lazily, the ruby light gleaming beneath it.

Only Ivan's arms were keeping her from dropping in a heap on the floor of the lair. "Plan B," he declared; and, without fair warning, he hoisted her over his shoulder. The decaying skin was twisted and pressed tightly against her face. Her reaction was immediate: she screamed. Loudly. Kapyn was on his claws, raising his head.

"Great." It rushed out of his mouth as he took off in the direction of the curve at the cave's exit.

* * *

**A/N: What are your thoughts about Casey's frame of mind?  
**

**MertleYuts: *grins* Ivan came to the same conclusion you did!**

**Backroads: You're no longer flummoxed? Oh, I'd like to know what you're thinking!  
**

**Lady Thorne: "There is something odd about that dragon…" Not to mention his eating habits. He likes his meat fresh, hold the escapees.**

**Smiling Pancake:** "**Ivan is so nice; he is always acting like some tough guy but deep down, he is really sweet." Definitely ISG material here. Blech. Right now I'm perturbed with Ivan. You'll see why soon.** "…**maybe the water is just so clean and pure that it cleaned Casey(Ivan)'s shirt and her chin…" Yes, something like that! :)**

**Arista Everett June: "...but then what of Thon living all alone?" You **_**would **_**be concerned about Thon. I love how you think. *sigh of happiness***

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: Are you stereotyping the prince? Good. I like an occasional prejudgment based on experience. Yeah, I'm serious. I don't think people give enough credit to "judging a book by its cover." It's not good in many cases; but how many bad situations have been avoided by the use of that survival mechanism? We shall never know.**

**Iliana11: Glad the animal blood didn't bother you. Tracks of animal blood in the snow? That sounds like the beginning of a horror story. "My Bio2 class ventured out to study tracks in the snow. Well, all of us except Chad. He was out sick that day. Or so we thought. That's when the teacher said something weird…" (Overactive imagination plus sinus infection equals lame plot bunnies.)**

**Quiet Mindreader: "The Dragonfly Prince does not want Casey to leave. And Kapyn does not want Casey to leave. Coincidence? Heh heh." xD The dragon skin is not transparent, unless you are standing close; then you can see objects beneath it. It is light, thin, grayish purple, and consists of convex, plate-like pieces. It does not conform to the body's shape. Does that help? I get teased all the time about jumping to new topics without explanation. Mine is a runaway train of thought. :)**


	37. Shadows and Apparitions

**A/N: Just for fun, play Coldplay's **_**Clocks**_** starting at "A figure, limned…" for the mood of the story. (It's on my Dragonfly Prince playlist – playlist (dot) com (/) mockingbyrdstune.)**

Chapter 37 – Shadows and Apparitions

Wrapped in the dragon skin, Ivan wasn't making any significant progress. Her added weight wasn't helping any, either. Fortunately, Kapyn seemed too drowsy to give chase. They both listened for the thwomping gait down the corridor, but it didn't follow them. Ivan relinquished his rescue mission at the pond. Casey wobbled her way out of sight of the cave before becoming wound up again and falling, causing Ivan to trip over her.

"Why do I feel a keen sense of déjà vu?" she asked after gaining her breath and working to unravel herself.

"Why do I feel like smacking you smart?!" shouted Ivan, getting up. "You are such a nuisance!"

"I love you, too," replied Casey glibly. It didn't go over well. He glared at her and stormed off, seething with an anger she didn't want to comprehend. She followed after him, still loosening the remaining length of molted skin from around her.

When Casey came into view of the hut, she found Ivan pacing outside his door. She sat down to give her legs a rest; and unconsciously began to fold Kapyn's scales carefully, stacking each concave piece onto the next. "I'm an idiot!" he exclaimed furiously, striking the back of his skull with his palm.

"Just hit yourself in the head a few more times; that will clear things up."

"Or how 'bout I clear _your_ head! What's in there anyway, a circus of pixies?" He walked up to her, bent down and snatched the dragon skin from her hands. "You had a dragon feeding you and – and he talked to you! What did he tell you? To stay with him? Did you want me to leave you in there with him? Is that why you screamed - to wake him up?"

"He was already awake," she said, knowing the scream had nothing to do with it. She felt mentally resistant to Ivan's attempts to stir up the depth of her feelings with his probing questions.

"What did he say to you, Casey?" His expression was intense; he was trying to contain his ire, which felt more intimidating than his yells.

"He didn't 'say' anything, Ivan." She was purposefully evasive and condescending. How dare he! He didn't have any right to interrogate with her; he had been the one to take her in there in the first place!

"You like to redefine words. Regardless of how you try to manipulate meanings, the point's the same: the dragon spoke to you, simple as that. Don't try to word it differently to feel better about it."

Casey lifted her chin, her eyes glinting challengingly, and saw the sincerity behind his hard look. She couldn't bear it. "Why did you do that?" She returned quietly. "Why did you carry me out of there?"

"Because I was dragging a jelly-legged moron across a dragon's lair!"

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Why are you so mad all of a sudden? You didn't have to take care of me. You could have left me there and tried for the portal. I wanted you to." He glared at her for what seemed like forever - even after she refused to meet his stare.

"I want to believe you're still okay, but I know how this works. Casey, I can't do anything to help you now. You're dangerous to yourself, and I – I'll only want to stop you from what's going to happen. And I can't stop it. We're done." His voice was flat and he turned away, leaving her to attempt to unravel the conflicting thoughts in her heart.

She didn't go back to the dragon's cave, even though she could see Kapyn's beautiful eyes, like a palpable object before her. She couldn't bring herself to go back; her physical and psychological exhaustion prevented her. She thought only of rest, and reached the maddlepone meadow at a crawl. She had trudged along with a hungry emptiness that had nothing to do with her growling stomach. Ivan's words had been the death knell of all that she dreaded; he could not have said anything worse. As though it crowed over her conquered mind, the echo of the words that had invaded her head lingered there, a shadow crouching in the corner of her memory. Would it always remain, haunting her every thought until she broke down and sought to hear it command her again?

She flopped down on her back the way she remembered Ivan doing the day before. She scratched her head unconsciously, then stopped and took a good look at her nails. They looked nicer than Ivan's, though still dirty and a bit ragged. Her eyes traveled down to her left wrist. Gingerly, she peeled away the hardened bandage, concerned for the pain it might elicit; but it didn't hurt at all. Though the skin was pulled as the dried sap was loosened, it was not tender. Even when she removed the pieces directly across the cut, there was no stinging remonstrance from the flesh beneath. She examined the uncovered wound. The deep lines of infection had disappeared. She found the cut had a strange sheen as she tilted it away from her.

Gradually, she dozed off, but awoke hours later to the piercing sensation of an insect making successive stings while crawling up her back. After a shriek and a few flailing attempts, she finally managed to get it off. She was hungry, and not for a few measly maddlepone kernels. Surely there would be food awaiting her at the rock.

Her strength had returned rapidly with rest. She was even able to push aside the whispers of the voice, almost convinced it had been the product of an overworked imagination. She stopped only twice along the way to the pixie's rock to catch her breath. The animal hide was in its proper place again, hung up outside her shelter. She pulled it back and was disappointed to see no inviting meal.

"Zyri!' she called out, almost irritated. A short buzz registered from inside the residence, and she perceived that the little being was buried in the satithril cover on her pallet. "Were you asleep?" she asked as the pixie flew to eye level. She didn't wait for a response. "I need food, Zyri. Is there any food?"

Without a word, the pixie's pinions resounded in urgency and the being flew past. Casey sat down to wait and noticed a small bag in the corner of the room. She picked it up. She had felt that smooth texture before. It was similar to the special paper from Ivan's cave. The pouch was clamped shut with a metallic piece which she unsuccessfully tried to pry off before her food was served. She carried the container with her to rest beside her on the dusty ground as she sat to eat.

"What happened to you, Zyri? You weren't following me today."

"Did not Casey go with Ivan to Kapyn's cave?"

"Ah, you thought I had escaped." She chewed for a moment, before questioning, "Or did you think Kapyn would take me off?"

"It wouldn't matter but that Casey was finally gone," replied Zyri wearily.

"But, which did you think would be more likely?" she pressed.

"Why does Casey continue here?" Zyri asked, frustrated. "I have done much for her! I have done what the dragonfly prince has told me, and still she remains! Why does she not leave?" There was a deep note of desperation in the pixie's voice. She understood that Zyri was not speaking to her; she wasn't being asked these questions directly. The pixie struck the hide curtain with her fist. It hardly gave a quiver.

As Zyri dropped her head in unresponsiveness, her small eyes locked on the container beside Casey.

"That is mine. Casey will not have it." The pixie whisked down beside her and swooped up the bag, carrying it back to the corner of the shallow room.

"What's in it, Zyri? Is it the liquid I drank this morning?" Casey's eyes rested greedily on the pouch perched against the wall.

"It is mine," repeated the winged one. Casey got up, undeterred, and walked toward it. "I tell you, it's mine!" screamed the pixie unleashing her fury wildly. "I'll bite her! I'll bite Casey if she touches it!"

Casey backed away sullenly. "It's the Zource water, right?"

"Casey knows nothing. The Zource is not water."

"That's what the pixies at the reservoir called it."

"That is because they have never experienced the Zource. If they understood its ability, they would leave it to the Zourcezervers and never think of it again."

"But, it is poured into the reservoir water, isn't it?"

"So? What does it matter to Casey?"

"It matters because it brings life to things! Doesn't it?"

"Strange are the humans in this way. The Zource doesn't bring pixies life. It is hateful stuff. We are forced to pour it into our stores because of an old law that the aged of our tribes persist in following. One day it will be forgotten. Oh, the Zourcezervers love it, they do. They are proud, and have turned their backs on their own. If you take of the Zource for your own reasons, quickly one will inquire what you are about! They think they are better than the other tribes, and try to divide us. They are wasting their lives on a worthless tradition of the past!" Now Zyri was sobbing uncontrollably. "Oh, the lies they have …," she broke off, listening intently. Bringing her tiny hand swiftly to her mouth, her eyes became wide with fear.

"What is it, Zyri?"

The little being peered anxiously out of the hole where the hanging barely gaped, then quickly flew out. Casey stayed within the curtained room, her eyes traveling over the dusky wood outside the hemmed-in boundary around her rock home. The light was fading from the sky. The oddly-shaped bushes and branches took on human characteristics; crooked arms and misshapen heads seemed to lurk in the shadows. She found herself wishing Zyri would return. Unwillingly, she continued to survey the grounds beyond the fence, wanting to see nothing amiss, yet unable to pull her gaze away.

**~(Start **_**Clocks**_** here)~**

A figure, limned in the dispersing light of the day, appeared in her line of vision. Like an apparition, the faint light seemed to grow around it. Casey took a double take. Was it real? Was it walking toward her or away? It was too far yet to tell. She hunched down, tucking the curtain around her face so that her right eye alone remained on the lookout. The figure wasn't dressed like the dragonfly prince; it was wearing pants. That much she could perceive. Surely it wasn't coming to find her! It felt like centuries before she finally had to admit: the figure was approaching.

It suddenly occurred to her that it might be one of the wild men of which Ivan had spoken. He said that if they knew she was there they would come for her. 'Oh, Ivan, tell me it's you!' she thought to herself, trying to come up with some plausible reason why he would return at that hour. Casey swallowed with a gulp. Her mouth was dry as she anxiously watched each step of the one advancing. Before he reached the boundary of her dwelling, Casey had taken refuge in the only corner of her shelter. In her mind, she had considered every choice of escape; either she stayed in or ran out. Running out would promptly give her away. She wouldn't be able to outrun anyone yet. She clung to the hope that the person didn't know she was there. Was there something she could use to hit the stranger over the head? Her eyes combed the inside of the recess. There was Zyri's pouch, but it wasn't heavy enough to make any impact at all. Too late she considered how many opportunities she'd had to pick up a sturdy branch to keep for such a purpose. 'Just let it be Ivan. Please be Ivan!' Instead of burying her head, as she had thought to do, her eyes remained transfixed on the drape.

Zyri suddenly returned through the tiny gap in the curtain, the sound of her wings increasingly loud. "Shhhhh!" she whispered to the pixie; but to no avail.

"He is here," declared the winged creature. Eerie shafts of light swam about, but the covering wasn't pulled back. She remained huddled in the corner until she heard her name spoken. Springing upright, she almost knocked her head on the low-jutting rocks above at the sound of the dragonfly prince's voice. She lifted the curtain cautiously to find him waiting there. In his hand he held a rock emitting a bright, blue flame of light. He was dressed in rough, brown pants and a long, loose tunic, a thin band of tan material was tied at his waist. He seemed so natural, so human!

"Will you talk with me tonight?" he asked, his shining, dark eyes warm and inviting. The hope, the elation, the incredible relief sent thrilling shivers through her. He wanted to speak to her! Unlike Ivan's desertion and Zyri's desperation to be done with her, the prince had returned and wanted her company! No words could be found to speak. She eagerly took his outstretched hand.

* * *

**A/N: Wasn't this a long chapter? :) **

**Iliana11: "Okay, I know there are Ivan supporters and maybe even a few DP supporters out there, rooting for Casey to choose. Honestly, I don't know who she'll pick." I hope the next chapters will give you more perspective on the prince's character. Whoo hoo!**

**Backroads: "I think she's thinking something (don't ask me what she's thinking) without fully realizing she is." New experiences hardly ever register clearly when they are happening. The dialogue and feelings of the last chapter were tough for me to gauge. My incredible beta gave me good feedback, I think. The beginning of this chapter was also challenging because I was trying to lead the reader through a gamut of emotions/reactions without being overdramatic or royally angsty. Did it work?  
**

**Quiet Mindreader: "I don't see why you are perturbed with Ivan." He's returned to being pretty harsh. I know what he's thinking, so that has a lot to do with it. "I think you like Kapyn/DP. You've been influenced by their charms, just like Casey." In the words of the man in black (**_**Princess Bride**_**), **_You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work._** Although I'm pretty sure I've given more away than I meant to in a couple of my responses, just because I'm too talkative.**

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: "What I mean is, I'm worried for Casey because often when things seem to good to be true, they usually are." I didn't think it was rude at all. I agree with you and think it's smart to be cautious. :)  
**

**Lady Thorne: "And I do hope you realize that you haven't told us what Kapyn said yet!!" Quote from chapter 36: **_Her mouth remained ajar in astonishment, as she listened to the words of the being before her._ "Do not cry out. Do not rile the beast."** These are the words reverberating through her head in this and the last chapter. Just curious: how would you have reacted in Casey's situation? I came to the conclusion I would have screamed anyway. 8^O!  
**

**Arista Everett June: *grins at the lengthy review* "****Poor Casey, I hate that feeling of someone sacrificing SO MUCH for you and you just want them to be safe in return...but they won't allow you to help them in return!" Yeah, it's pretty beautiful to feel that way, to experience that in a relationship. Yet, why does the self-saboteur, guilt mode kick in and make a mess of everything? It was fun discussing the story with you the other day, though I think I gave too much away. *sigh***

**Smiling Pancake: "But just because you hear voices in your head doesn't make you crazy." True. There is a line between imagination and reality; unfortunately, it is not well-delineated at times. "Like if Ivan and Casey do go home what will happen to Thon?! They can't just leave him there!!" You, too, huh? The Rescue Thon-a-thon begins! lol**


	38. Oliver

**To: A Not-So-Clever Cookie**

**Request granted.**

**:)**

Chapter 38 - Oliver

He took her southward, beyond the regions she had explored with Ivan toward a large boulder. It sat like a brooding giant near a set of what looked to be dunes in the darkness. She followed him around the great rock-like structure. The light of the single blue flame danced across the surface as they approached it, revealing similar etchings to those on the Fleshgatherers' rock.

"This is one of the oldest, most interesting vestiges in all the land," he told her as he began to ascend a jagged set of elevated places in the great object. She joined him as he stood on the plateau and stared out over the expanse. "I used wonder why it was here. Casey, you are standing on bone; part of a skull, in fact." She looked down, not at all pleased with the knowledge, yet trying to identify the shape in the darkness.

"Look in the distance." He motioned toward the gorge, which was just over the ridge of the jagged dunes. On the opposite side, she saw a clearing with a large issue of multi-shaded smoke rising above the land. It was so far away it looked to be a flicker of a snake's tongue; it seemed to feed on the darkness. She squinted at the ravenous, beryl wisp with a tunnel of night between her and the region over the way. "Listen," he rested his hand on her shoulder, bringing his face beside hers. She could barely still her heart to pay attention to the slight sounds from the other side. He began to hum the tune in her ear, making it easier to recognize the melody of the music.

"What are they doing?" she asked.

"They are dancing and playing. They are having a celebration. Every year they welcome the return of the Viliath."

"The Viliath?"

"The beautiful creature of the sea. This place – this land - is known as Dreone (Dray'-o-nay). It is in the heart of what was once a great mountain. If you were to travel it in the four directions, you would find it hemmed in by walls of rock in every place but two: where the water enters and where it flows out."

"Have you walked all of Dreone?"

"No. I have seen it from the crest of the southern peak. That way." He pointed toward the left into the darkness. "It is part of Dreone's boundary, and reaches a height that allows a view not only of this valley, but what remains of the great mountain northward through which the Ebydd flows."

"The Ebydd is the water in the gorge?" Casey asked.

"Yes. It flows from the Drakkytbet (Drahk-et-bayt)– in the north. One day I will show you the view-"

"No," Casey said quickly, pulling away. "I – I don't want to see anymore of Dreone. I want to go home. You – you could help me go home, couldn't you?"

The prince withdrew his hand as she turned toward him. "Oh, Casey. I had hoped to give you time to love this place as I do. I know you want to return, but can't you see the beauty of what you have?"

"It – it is very pretty. The food the pixies have brought to me – oh, I thank you for it! Still, I need to go back. I belong _there_, not here."

"You belong, you say." She heard a bitter note in his voice. "Can one really belong anywhere?" His tone abruptly changed; and, instead he said, "Well enough, Casey. I understand your thoughts for home. I will help you return."

She looked into his face, lit softly by the azure glow of the strange rock he held, too cautious to believe he would really grant her request.

"You want to know why I will help you," he said. "So ask."

"Okay. Why?"

He lifted her hand, entwining his fingers with hers, drawing closer. His face was so beautiful in the haunting cerulean glow. As he scanned her eyes, she held her breath; there was something fiercely calm within him. She could feel his presence, like a raging storm masterfully controlled. "If I let you go, I think you will return to Dreone; and I will make it so there will always be a door open to you."

Casey, highly doubtful of ever coming back, wore a pleased expression. "Will you do this now?"

"It cannot be accomplished until the Viliath comes."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "But when will that be?"

He pointed toward the curling clouds of colored light beyond the gorge. "The celebration begins. The Viliath will come to Dreone within the week. Until then, I will ask something from you in return."

"What would that be?" The words were spoken warily.

"Before the light fades each evening, come to this place. I wish to tell you more of this land, so that you will know it as I do."

"Is that all we will do? Talk?" The question was bold, but she needed to know.

"Do you exact a promise of restraint from me?" His tone expressed nothing, but she had the distinct impression that he was amused. It wasn't clear to her, since the light had been directed away from his face. "Is there no trust between us? Have I not proven myself to be always concerned in your care and well-being?"

"Yes. I mean - I don't know you. I want to trust you…"

"What prevents you?"

"Things like: I don't even know your name."

"I was once known as Oliver."

"And, you are… different."

"Does different mean that I am not to be believed?" he asked. His question was a challenge and she gave a guarded laugh.

"I don't know what 'different' means, but that doesn't change how I feel…" She trailed away, remembering her conversation with Ivan about her love of redefining words.

"I do not wish to do anything to make you uneasy." The light from the stone wavered as he moved, releasing her fingers. "Do you want to go back now? I will take you back to the pixies."

"I don't know." She hesitated, unequal to admitting the emotions he awakened within her. Her heart, even when it returned to its normal pace, ached when she was near him. It was delicious and frightening. She wanted to touch him and run from him simultaneously.

"Your face is so expressive. Right now the way your forehead crinkles… I think you are afraid of me."

She shook her head, wishing to deny it; but honesty won out. "Definitely."

He chuckled quietly, and Casey's heart fluttered like a restless pixie. Why was he laughing? "I'll take you back."

"No. I don't want to be alone." He was very still, looking down at her. She had surprised herself with the resolve she felt.

She heard him give a sorrowful sigh before he sat down. "Then you won't be alone. We'll watch the celebration until you wish to return." She placed herself next to him, curling her knees to her chin. "You act as though you are cold," he remarked after a few minutes.

"Not on the outside," she mused aloud. "Does it never get cold here?"

"It is spoken that _Dreone's heat will not increase, nor will it decrease. The winds will not shift its calm_," he quoted.

"What is that from?" She waited, but he didn't give any explanation. "Is it from a book?" He turned his face and she saw his profile in the light. His nose, his lips, his chin; everything was so perfectly appealing about him.

"It is one of the many stories of Dreone. A passage much like poetry."

"Quote more of it."

He seemed to consider it before telling her, "Haven't you read enough of them?"

She paused, puzzling over what he meant, before it dawned on her. "You mean in the cave in the gorge? I'm not allowed to read those."

"Not allowed?"

"Ivan won't let me."

"Why should he stop you?"

"Do you know Ivan?" For some reason, Casey felt relieved to speak of him. "He's the one that rescued me when I first came here."

"Why aren't you allowed to read the stories?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Because the people who wrote them were crazy – or went crazy."

"My story is there. I wrote it a year ago, before the time of the Viliath. I read many pages in that cave."

"And you didn't die in there?"

Oliver laughed. "No, I didn't die in there. But it is a dangerous place. I didn't think you'd visit it as much as you have."

"I probably wouldn't have, but Ivan practically lives there." There was silence again. Was he trying to avoid speaking of Ivan? She decided to be direct. "Why do you speak to me and not to Ivan?"

"Because his fate is not yours."

* * *

**A/N: *hops up and down* What do you think?**

**Arista Everett June: "Too short, too short." To think, that was one of the longer chapters. I'm glad it pulls you in.** **"It's odd that the dragon would say 'Do not cry out. Do not rile the beast.' about himself!" Yes, isn't it?** **"Are you doing a symbolism of his sacrifice to save Casey when he didn't have to or am I making it deeper than it really is?" He felt responsible for her and acted on that. So, were your bones right?**

**Lady Thorne: "OR all of the fiction stories that I've read in my life will come back to me and I might discover that I have super cool powers as well!" The fiction stories coming to you sounds like Inkheart. Discovering super cool powers? Nice! King David of the Bible said, **_I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Marvelous are your works; my soul knows it very well._ -Psalm 139:14. **The word "fearfully" there means to inspire a respectful awe; and the word "wonderfully" expresses a meaning of being set apart. So, each of us is an awe-inspiring, set apart creation of God. Our existence - a human life - **_**is**_** a super cool power then.**

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: :D Did you like the chapter? I hope you weren't using God's name as an interjection. :o{ I wish that acronym meant something else.**

**Smiling Pancake: How can Ivan be so angry? That's a start to figuring out what's going on in his head.** **"You sure do love the cliffhangers, don't you?" Tee hee *smiles back***

**Quiet Mindreader: I was seriously concerned when I didn't hear from you. 'Was the chapter boring? Has it left QM with two little info?' I was thinking all sorts of sad things. Just shows how I look forward to your thoughts after each chapter. Is it possible I'm addicted to your reviews? :}** **"Did the Zource water make her nails prettier?" Less wear. She's been there less than two weeks compared to Ivan's eleven months.** **"Was he not wearing any pants before?" *chuckles* He was actually wearing these clothes in the cave, but the flaking apparel covered them over like a robe. When Zyri knew the Dfly P was near, she flew to investigate where he was going. She was just nervous. Yes, Oliver looks just the same as before, just as handsome and all. I hope you felt that from this chapter.**


	39. A Heart Like Sezo

**A/N: This chapter is for Arista Everett June.**

Chapter 39 – A Heart Like Sezo

"What do you mean, 'his fate is not mine'? Is Ivan going to die?"

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be so easily touched."

"Do you mean I shouldn't care what happens to him?" She felt the frustration return at the thoughts of their argument earlier that day, of Ivan's cursory last words: _We're done_.

"I mean, you should not let the decisions of others weigh on you; everyone chooses a course." She could hear the change in his tone as he added, "Yet, it is your nature. Your heart is so very open. One day it might feel the same way about another." The conversation had returned to her acceptance of him. She wished to trust him freely, but something wouldn't let her. She needed to know him better.

"Did you come here through the dragonfly portal?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. I was too young to remember when I was brought here."

"That young? How did you survive?"

"I wasn't alone. There was someone with me."

"Who?" she pressed.

"I don't know. I think he was my grandfather."

"Oh. You don't miss home then. You don't miss your family."

"I miss my family. Here. I had mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters. I had a big family."

"What happened to them?"

"They were put to death by a stronger clan." He gave no reaction but watched for hers.

Casey's eyes were wide. "Why would anyone kill your family?"

"I lived there, Casey." He pointed to the lights over the gorge. "It is there that they do what they wish."

She waited, hoping he would tell her more. He had a quietness about him, as though he was not accustomed to speaking of his thoughts and experiences.

"I was of the Eder Forest – that's what my people called the wood to the North in the wild lands. My family was known as the Ceiah (Kay-uh), the protectors. I didn't understand why until I was a man, when the Greads (Grey-ads) massacred them all. They took me, and on my back they seared the mark of my destiny." She saw how his jaw tightened.

He was silent, and she asked, "What is it? What is your destiny?"

"To lead the people. To return them to their homeland."

Casey gasped. "Could you do that?"

"After what they have done to me…" He coolly spoke the sharp words. "I will not help them return." His dark eyes stared out into the night, away from the pixie's land. "They wanted a prince to lead them; so be it." He said nothing more and Casey knew the heart beside her heaved with misery the depth of which she could not sound. She couldn't understand him fully, and didn't think she wanted to. There was too much in him. It frightened her far more than not knowing who he was.

Finally, he turned to her. "Your heart is like a vein of finest sezo, bright and untarnished." He sighed and stood. "Ask me to take you back."

She nodded. "Yes. I should go back."

He paused. "You 'should'? Are you bound by some inner reasoning to do so?"

The question was strange to her. "I don't know what you mean."

"It doesn't matter." He led her to the base of the bone fragment. Neither spoke on their journey back to the pixies' rock. He helped her over the fence, but kept her hand in his as they walked through the thick night to her hide-draped entrance. "Will you return tomorrow evening?"

"Oliver, you – we don't think alike."

"I know. Do we have to think alike to talk? Can't we just be?"

"I'm not explaining myself very well." He waited for her to sort her thoughts, but her impressions were too vague. "I don't know what I mean."

"If you do not wish to meet again, I will try to understand." His eyes were pained as he added, "Goodnight, Casey."

"Goodnight, Oliver."

He kept her hand as she made to go. "Say it again."

"What?"

"My name. I haven't heard it in many years."

"Oliver." She didn't pronounce it nearly as easily when asked to do so, but his expressive lips lifted into an intoxicating grin.

The azure glow faded as he went away, moving beyond the fence. She entered her shelter in the pitch black and felt for the satithril cloth, kicking off her shoes. There were too many thoughts for her to sleep, so she sifted through them one by one.

What had he meant, saying, 'they wanted a prince; so be it,' as though it was an ultimatum?

He was meant to take them all back to their homeland, their world. Yet, he knew nothing of that world, the home she yearned for and wanted to return to so dearly.

It was his destiny. His destiny! How did he know that?

What was the mark on his back?

Why did that clan kill his family? Weren't they all from the same place? Hadn't they come through the portal? Why was there such cruelty on the other side?

What would happen when the Viliath came? Could he really make it so that she could leave and return again? If she didn't meet with him tomorrow night, would he still help her?

He seemed so sure she would want to return to Dreone. He was wrong! She'd never come back!

Yet, he was so kind and… amazing. She didn't even know how to put into words what she felt from him. Strength? That wasn't all of it. No matter how much he said, he didn't seem to say enough. His mind was so guarded, yet he had reached out to her from the beginning. In the silent moments with him, she had been aware of his unspoken plea to be freed from his reticence. Oh, she was afraid to know what was behind that fortress of his, and she would not slip beyond her own walls of safety to find out.

* * *

**A/N: Sezo - In its refined state, this precious metal is bluish-silver or amethyst-gold, depending on the light and heat. More of its properties will be described later. My beta wants to like the prince, and she says she's not at all creeped out by him after this chapter. What about you?**

**Arista Everett June: Oliver named himself. "I really need to see an argument between Ivan and Oliver." Do you think that would help you choose a side? There are so many things I want to say about your life right now, but that's personal. Just know I'm thinking about you, and this is your chapter because I think your heart is like sezo, too. *hug***

**Lady Thorne: "Or that his appealingness only works on girls, so he can't bend Ivan to his will." That may be true on some level. Yet, Casey has traits that have persuaded him to trust her. I hope you kind of get that feeling from this chapter. There will be more about that later.**

**Iliana11: While I lurve getting your reviews, as a writer to a writer, I understand. It's becoming more and more difficult for me to keep scribbling because I have so many projects going already. I've neglected the reader/writer reciprocity on ffn for about a month now. Oh, the guilt I feel!** **"I like how you now have names for this land." Names are important to me. **_I read in a book once that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but I've never been able to believe it. I don't believe a rose _would _be as nice if it was called a thistle or a skunk cabbage._ – _**Anne of Green Gables**_

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: "LOVE the chapter, I've been wanting this conversation for a while" *gleeful laughter* Yay!!**

**Quiet Mindreader: "I like the name 'Dreone'. It has a nice ring to it." Finding the name was maddening, but I knew it was right the moment I spelled it out. "Is the Viliath going to give her a ride? Or is it linked somehow with the dragonflies?" The latter. :) "How did he become DP/Kapyn? :D" Just sneak that question in, huh? Lol This chapter somewhat answered why he isn't called 'Oliver'. There isn't anyone to call him by his name. There will be more about that, though; specifically, how the pixies view the prince. Oliver was in the pixies' land for a time before he wrote his story.**

**Backroads: "It's so strange; so much of this story is bad dragonfly world, let's leave, and now... I'm kind of falling in love with it." Really? *grinning* I feel the same way. Still, 'there's no place like home'.**

**Smiling Pancake: "More questions answered but only to leave more questions." You just expressed my life's motto. :/ Curious souls need answers! Do you like blueberries? Just wondering, because they are wonderful with pancakes.**


	40. Something for Ivan

Chapter 40 – Something for Ivan

Casey rose in the morning with an immediate wish to find Ivan. He needed to know about the prince, about his promise to help her get home. She was going to take Ivan, too. As she grabbed her shoe, she paused to examine the sole of her foot. The skin had grown and healed swiftly. Things were so much better today. She felt light and happy. This week the Viliath would come.

"What's the Viliath look like, Zyri? The prince said it was a beautiful creature." The pixie gave no response. She sighed, listening to the thrum of little wings. Zyri was irritated about something, but she knew by experience it wouldn't do any good to ask.

Casey stepped out into the day and inhaled deeply. Life! She was alive! There wasn't a strange voice in her head, her arm didn't hurt anymore, and she was going home! She grinned to herself, climbing over the fence and heading straight to the bushes of berries nearby. The berries were harder to find, she'd picked off so many. She dropped one on her tongue, savoring its tart skin before biting to enjoy the sweet ball of fruit within. Separating the branches, she crouched down to search for more berries, her stomach complaining of hunger all the while.

On her way to the reservoir, she claimed three good-sized branches before deciding on one that came to her elbow and wasn't as heavy as the others. It would be her walking stick or club for intruders. She tried making moves with it she'd seen in movies, and decided to swing it like a bat instead after whacking herself with an overenthusiastic lightsaber-like action. 'I should take some kind of martial arts course when I get home,' she said while rubbing her sore shoulder.

She felt too timid to ask for extra water at first; then, remembering how Ivan had chided her, she mustered up the courage. "I'd like a bowl to take back with me." The pixies didn't complain; it was filled and given to her. That was all it took!

She knew exactly where to go. She'd take the water to Ivan at the cave. Would he be at the cave? She went to his shelter first, which was closer. As she had expected, he was nowhere to be seen. She made the trek to the gorge, trying to keep the contents of the bowl from sloshing out. It wasn't much, but maybe he'd listen to her while he drank it. She really ought to have considered saving some of the meat the pixies had given her. Then he'd have to be her friend! She laughed to herself, wondering why she found the thought so funny. Going home had changed her whole outlook. Tiffs with Ivan didn't weigh on her as they had before.

Admitting readily that the narrow incline to the cave was still not her favorite place for a stroll, she pressed her back against the wall and scooted carefully, embracing the bowl in her arms. She jumped down into the first room and climbed back up the wall to retrieve the water waiting on the ledge.

"Ivan!" she called out, and bit her lip, hoping he wouldn't be angry and come charging through the corridor with a threat for her to get out. Yet, when no response came, she was almost sorry he didn't. Either he wasn't there or he wasn't even going to answer her. The vine was extended into the passage she had always followed. 'Lights!' she called out and the little beads of illumination swam into her vision. She closed her eyes momentarily, adjusting to the bug light, and entered the labyrinth of caverns. Certainly he had to be in the cave if the vine had not been taken up. Didn't he always take up the vine? "Ivan, I have something very important to tell you." She couldn't keep the smile out of her voice. Would he believe her when she said she would have a way home by the end of the week? Did she believe it? The thought caught her off guard. She pushed it away. Of course she did! Oliver wouldn't lie. He had been almost too honest. The sides of her lips fell as she remembered his words about his family, the vengeance in his voice when he had spoken of the other people there. She would not like to make him angry with her.

"I have water for you! A whole bowl! Not two gulps, like you gave me before I fed Kapyn the first time." She was following the vine, tapping it with the rubber sole of her shoe as she went. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about Kapyn. Yeah, bad idea. "A whole bowl of water," she repeated. She had entered a chamber, coming upon a few scattered sheets of paper. "Come on. Don't sulk. I'm not going crazy. We're going home, Ivan! There's only a week to wait, maybe less!"

Still, no one answered, as she stepped into the room of papers that were organized into rolls and stacks on the floor. "Didn't you hear me? Home!" She entered what she knew to be the largest of the cave's chambers, finding the vine trailed away into the passage she had glimpsed when hiding from Ivan only two days before. "Ivan?" she called into the echoing atmosphere of the corridor. Even with the lumins, the long hall was deep in shadow, ominous and confined. Turning away, she put down the bowl and walked across to check the hollow place in the rock, reaching her arm into the groove of the wall. It was completely bare, but for one piece of the perfect paper, which she pulled out and examined. It had the same foreign script on it. She began to fold it absently in her hands as she returned to the water and sat down, wondering what to do. Follow the vine? The thought sent a chill through her. She didn't trust herself to go into unknown regions so soon after getting lost in there.

She waited and waited, but Ivan didn't return. The perfect paper was tightly clamped in her palm, folded into a tiny square. How far was he exploring today? There couldn't be that much vine! Looking down at the bowl of water, Casey began to be a little thirsty. She took a small sip. It still needed to be saved for Ivan. Peering around the room, she twisted her body and reached for a page a short distance away.

…_This great beast, mentioned in the writings on the cave walls, the memorials, and statues, remains a mystery. Judging from later records, most conclude that the writings were not speaking of a physical Iothun (Ee-oh-thun), but a figurative being; an abstract concept of power and evil intention. The stories of the Iothun are, therefore, an example of the poetic language of that time._

Casey skimmed the document in her hand. This author was as wordy as the last one she'd read. Did they all sound like this? She paused, as her eyes rested on another paragraph.

…_Furthermore, no connection is ever given between the dragons and the Iothun, allowing the account of the destruction of Mount Dreohan to be a figurative one rather than a realized, authentic event. For, it is improbable that a mountain ever existed which comprised the present day northern and southern pinnacles as the foundational frame of its great height; or, that a valley of such depth and circumference, cushioned between the two ranges, could have been fashioned out without razing the entire outer flanking of a mountain so massive._

She shook her head and dropped the paper to the floor. The author's meaning was incomprehensible without having read the beginning – which she wasn't interested in reading anyway. She stared at the many loose, unrelated pages littering the large cavern and decided to return to the previous chamber. She sat down again, cross-legged, and began sorting through the stacks Ivan had drawn her attention to days before. There were a few bare spaces where rolls were missing; those had been the ones she'd stuffed into her shirt and dumped out in the cavern with the cadaver of the dog writer. Studying the pages closely, she could see by the discoloration and tattered edges of some that they were older writings. She began to sort through the newer scripts, wondering if she might happen upon Oliver's work.

The dog story was the first she perused. She returned it swiftly and picked up another roll, beginning to sift through its words.

…_covered endless tracks of field. We harvested enough grain to wonder at the stretch of autumn-like days. The change to Dreone's clime was a presentiment of the death that would come._

…_Tul Garr spoke to Nwohid that evening about who would go before the clan from the Eder Wood to the water to await the Viliath. Tul Garr tried to persuade him against it, but Nwohid was determined: I was no longer a boy. As a man, I would be part of the first issue of scouts._

Casey's eyes sped through the next paragraphs, pausing again when she reached the words,

…_I watched them fall. Their screams surrounded me. I was taken from the camp. Vainly I fought; I thought my arms ripped from my shoulders. Yet, the words rang through my head as I watched the smoke in the distance, only a small black cloud and hardly discernible in the wake of the celebration fires: "You are Oliver? Oliver, the one who subdues the dragon?"_

Casey dropped the stack of pages. This was Oliver's story? How could she have found it so quickly! She picked up the sheets again and continued to read.

_Why had I agreed? Why had I told them my name? I wished for death that day. I struggled with my shame and cowardice._

_After the feast of the Viliath, I was taken to their lands southward. Their dwelling held many prisoners – victims of their battles - mostly women and children. These were meant to serve them, but also to be used in their practices in their offerings to the dragon gods. The horrors that went on in that place I cannot commit to paper, though they are seared in my memory and will ever remain vivid. I was brought to the grove after two weeks of deliberation by the council. After hours of ritual, which involved euphoric episodes induced by herbs, they drove me from reality to succumb to a trance-like state. I was then inflicted for many hours under the blade and brand of their chief metalworker, whose artistry could be seen above the eyes of the Greadan warriors. My entire back was the canvas upon which he labored. I had only the herbs of the ritual to aid me, and their affects faded long before the final branding occurred._

Here the writing had stopped. With only a stray line near the last word, almost three-quarters of the page had been left blank. Casey quickly turned the page.

_I remained with the Greads almost a year, training in their warfare, participating in their raids…" _

The lumins' glow began to fade and she considered calling the third set of bugs, when it occurred to her that the cave wasn't the most cheery place to read. She decided to leave the bowl of water there so that Ivan would see it when he returned. In exchange, she took the story, sneaking guiltily out of the cave. Nervously returning by the path overlooking the gorge, she squeezed the folded perfect piece of paper still tucked into her palm, suddenly remembering it was there. What a comforting feel it had! No wonder she had forgotten about it.

She heard Zyri's wings after climbing the steps from the Gladers' Pool. "Are you speaking to me yet?" she asked the winged one. "Because I'd like to know about the dragonfly prince."

"He comes to our rock now. Casey meets him in the night. What can she ask of me that cannot be asked of the dragonfly prince?" Her tone was cold and dismissive. The idea crossed Casey's mind that Oliver's visits to the pixies' rock were not at all pleasing to Zyri.

"I want to know why your tribe does what he tells you? What exactly threatens you?"

"There are many enemies to the pixies. The dragonflies are a great protection in the face of danger. He is of the dragonflies.

"Who are your enemies, other than Kapyn?"

"No. Kapyn is terrible, but he is not an enemy. For this reason we keep his belly satisfied. The humans across the rushing waters do not come here because they fear the dragon. They are our enemies. All humans are enemies."

"Am I your enemy, Zyri?"

The winged one did not hesitate. "Casey becomes my worst enemy."

* * *

**A/N: Tater748's comment after this chapter: "No, Zyri! Say it ain't so."**

**A Not-So-Clever Cookie: "my mind suddenly brought up thoughts of Thon... are we going to see more of him?" Yes. He's in the next chapter.**

**Iliana11: "It kind of reminds me of the Old Testament concerning symbolism. A man returning his people to the truth and their homeland...nice." I thought about that! :) Yet, I'm not trying to correlate this with an account in the Bible. I'm trying not to force symbolism, either, because that can be taken tons of different ways. Still, I'm aware the Biblical concepts are there – like questions of humanity and authority. In writing this, I'm trying to find my 'voice' in the realm of fantasy.**

**MertleYuts: Your thoughts were honest and real. No worries that I would take that wrong. And you are right: Stating his superficial merits is ineffective, if my object is to create an endearing feeling for the prince. On the flip side, if the object is to have the reader feel a bit standoffish about him, the method is rather handy. (heh heh) I think a better writer would have made it less obvious, though. I didn't want anyone to get a fix on Oliver immediately, and had to use what limited skills I have. I love how the emotions for him go from outright dislike to mute distrust to timid curiosity. Will they continue to move toward the positive? Oh, I adored your review! Thank you.**

**Quiet Mindreader:** **"Multiple mothers and fathers? So I take it that his biological parents weren't there…" Exactly. The clan took care of their own, protecting the weak and young to the best of their ability.** **"'After what they have done to me…' - Is this referring to how they killed his 'family'?" Yes, and what he endured while he lived with the Greads. This chapter gave more insight into that, I hope.** **"'Oliver was in the pixies' land for a time before he wrote his story.' – And he left right around the time Ivan arrived." He left the cave, but he's inhabited the pixies' side the whole time Ivan's been there. Wow, your theories are so cool!**

**Backroads: "I guess it's a testament to you as author and your ability with characters." *panicked look* Disclaimer: I'm just a scribbler. Don't trust me so much! Don't! It's too much pressure! :)**

**Lady Thorne: "Actually, I really love dark, mysterious characters which Oliver is now appearing to be." Me, too. **_**Writing**_** dark, mysterious characters is even more delish. Learned that with my first fanfic. But I wonder if your idea of 'dark' is the same as mine?**


	41. Missing

Chapter 41 – Missing

"But, what about Ol – the dragonfly prince? He's human, but he's not your enemy."

"I told Casey, he is of the dragonflies. Casey doesn't listen well."

"Zyri, do you mean to say he is not human?"

"Of course! Can not Casey smell him? He has no human scent."

"Did the wild ones think he was human?"

"The wild ones?" Zyri's wings gave a strange flutter.

"The ones he escaped from on the other side of the gorge. I found his story. I have it here." She lifted the pages and Zyri hovered near, scanning the top sheet with her quick eyes.

Disinterest quickly followed. "Pixies do not wander into the forbidden cave."

"But aren't you curious to know about the stories?"

"There is nothing in that place to concern a pixie."

"Really. What about this?" Casey drew the square of perfect paper from her palm and began to unfold it. "This stuff is pretty amazing. You can't crease it. It's indestructible, as far as I know. I think it would be very helpful for pixie use." Holding the page in her hand, she saw Zyri stare hard at the characters on it. The winged creature flew forward quickly, and Casey saw her tiny fingers trace the script.

"Can you read it?"

"Of course! Am I not the daughter of the mouth of my tribe? Those of Zbori Fleshgatherer are taught the old language."

"What does it say?"

Zyri considered her before stating, "Casey does not know the language. I am glad. I will not tell her what is written there."

"Why not?" She was being so irritating today!

"Because I will not have her know the things of the pixies!"

"Is this about pixies – this paper?"

"I will give no more answers to Casey's questions; nothing of the words of the old language, nothing of the dragonfly prince." Zyri hesitated, her pinioned frame vacillating as her mind worked. "Casey says he is of the ones across the rushing waters?" she spoke to herself.

"I didn't say that," she returned guardedly.

"Casey said he escaped – she said 'escaped'!" Immediately after, she was off.

"Zyri!" She had the sinking feeling she'd made a mistake.

She rolled up Oliver's story tightly and shoved it into her pocket, noting how her pants definitely constituted for 'baggy' now. She wandered the familiar regions which she'd traversed with Ivan, knowing there was safety in remaining in places where her scent was strong. The day crawled by. She had never felt the length of the hours pass so slowly before. Finally, she relented and tiptoed to the edge of the wood to face the clearing around the quagmire and Kapyn's cave beyond. Her muscles tensed as she listened for movement of any sort, but all was still. She began to retreat as something to the right above her head moved slightly. She looked up to find Thon staring down at her, only a few meters above. She stifled her scream, her skin crawling in disgust. His coils were wreathed like a garland from three branches. Casey backed away, returning the gaze of the snake. Thon rested his head again and she examined him. Though he was very dark, she could see the designs on his back through the dried mud; rounded purple scallops curled around deep amber ovals. Thon had a rather pretty sheen about him under all the filth. Too bad he was a snake.

"I suppose you don't know where Ivan is, either," she said, barely audibly. Thon lifted his head again only to lower it, so that it disappeared beneath the coils. She thought he was only showing his disinterest; but the rest of his body began to rotate, moving toward the trunk and gliding down the tree in a shifting, ribbon-like fluidity that traveled faster than the meandering effect it presented. "Sorry, never mind me. I'll just be moseying along..." Casey was quickly backing away from the python, when he moved toward the northwest. There was no accounting for it, but he was definitely communicating. "You do know where Ivan is, don't you? Well," she sighed, as Thon began to slither through the brush, "I've followed you before. I guess I can try it again."

Yet, the great snake was taking her in a direction she'd never explored. The vegetation seemed thicker, if it was possible. She could not keep up, and many times experienced the startling displeasure of having the reptile's head peer over the leaves to wait for her. The ground became rocky after a time, and Casey had the uneasy feeling she should quit and go back to familiar territory. The land began to rise and it was easier to see Thon, who continued to lead her. After a few aching reminders that her muscles were entirely against going farther, she noticed the bloom of a familiar flower beginning to close.

"Um. I've got to get back to my place, Thon." The snake stopped and watched her. "I'll have to wait until tomorrow, when I can have more daylight. So, what do you say? Meet at the pond again in the morning?" She laughed uncomfortably, feeling ridiculous for talking conversationally to an enormous snake. Was that a head nod? Did he just move his head or had it been her imagination? He was approaching her swiftly now and she jumped as his thick body swept by. He was going home, too, it seemed.

Her meal wasn't anywhere to be found, but there was a cloud of pixies swarming over her shelter when she reached it. "What's happened?" she asked at the fence, the number of the buzzing little beings intimidating her so that she was afraid to come nearer.

Yet, the moment she spoke, they scattered and went into hiding. "Where has Casey taken it? Tell me where!" Zyri flew right at her face and she stepped backwards, shielding her eyes.

"Taken what? I just got here!"

"Then she sent the other human while she talked to me of the dragonfly prince. Ivan has my bag!"

Casey ran quickly to view her shallow dwelling; the hide drape was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the corner. Zyri's container was gone. "Why would Ivan take it?" she said to herself, speaking aloud.

"It was her plan to take it. I knew she would try it."

"I didn't, Zyri. If you'd quit being so suspicious of me, you'd figure that out!"

"I know she wanted the Zource. I saw the greed in her eyes," the pixie hissed. Casey closed her mouth, knowing that she had felt a great desire to have the contents of the bag. "Her silence speaks her guilt!"

"I didn't take it, Zyri. I didn't have anything to do with your Zource going missing. Are you sure it wasn't a pixie who took it?"

"Ivan is hiding it," the pixie said to herself, swinging her small fists. "That is why he is not to be found anywhere."

Casey's heart dropped. "What do you mean, 'he's not to be found'? Where did he go?"

"He was known to be at the bridge at the day's beginning," spoke another pixie from behind. "Yet, he did not pass over."

"Was it his plan to take the Zource across the rushing waters?" It was Zbori Fleshgatherer who asked this of the one who had given the information.

"He has not returned to the path."

Zbori answered, "Then it may be that he will cross soon."

She gasped. Why would Ivan cross the rushing waters? "Are you talking about where the wild ones live?" They did not answer her, but continued to converse as though she wasn't there.

"Are we to stop him?"

The mouth of the Fleshgatherers was silently considering what was to be done. Casey listened to his wings. They gave a distinctive sound from Zyri's, but she still perceived the emotion there. "Be certain that the Zource does not cross over. If he walks the bridge with the Zource, bite him; but he must be kept alive until the Zource is found. If he has hidden it-"

"He won't cross to the wild ones," spoke Casey firmly, though the panic rose in her. They couldn't kill Ivan! "He will never go over there."

"Where is he, Casey?" spat out Zyri. "Casey must find him and tell him it will do him no good to hide from pixies." The threatening way she spoke alarmed Casey. Would they kill her for the Zource, too?

"Send out the call," cried Zbori. "The tribes will answer when they find him. But, say no word of the bag or its contents!"

"But what should be said if it is opened? What if we should be found out?" The question was asked to Zbori by one of the pixies who rose up to follow his orders.

"The burden will rest on the one who possessed it." Casey heard Zyri's grating wings. The daughter of Zbori was to be blamed for the missing Zource. She could hardly feel sorry for the pixie, but understood now why Zyri had flown at her. "As to the earlier matter," added the tribe's mouth, "until all is settled, shelter for the night will be granted to the human." Casey didn't understand this at all. Was Zbori talking about her? Was there any reason why she wouldn't be allowed to stay there? What was going on? The light was fading. She needed answers, and Oliver would help. Confused and hungry, she hopped over the fence and headed for the skull fragment in the valley.

* * *

**A/N: So, where do you think Ivan is? Do you think he took the Zource?**

**LaLa De Dum: "I just don't like Oliver. At all. He totally gives me the heebie jeebies." Ah, bad vibes about him. Sorry you miss Ivan. :( I loved your review. Thanks!**

**Iliana11: Iliaaana. Iliaaana! Just wanted to sing that. Yes, I'm sleep-deprived and lack chocolate. "Does she consider Casey her 'worst enemy' because … Casey is human and has connection to the dragonflies?" Pixies in Dreone once served humans, which makes them fear and despise them. They do not view the Dfly P as human, so that has something to do with their obedience to him. "What is the difference between a dragon and an Iothun?" For one thing, size. Supposing the Iothun was in battle with a shrimpy dragon, the Iothun would squash him/her. So, are you okay? You can prevail against that hideous writer's block!!**

**Quiet Mindreader: Ivan's really on a mission, and won't be around to start any arguments with Casey in the next chapters. The Iothun and the Viliath are two different creatures. Chapter 27: "**_**The ones who remain beside the cave are taken; the others cross the rushing waters.**_**" Humans cross on their own. I think it will become clearer in the next chapters why Oliver noticed Casey.**

**Arista Everett June:** ***grins vivaciously* I'm so glad you were touched because your reviews sincerely touch me. "He's had a violent past and has revenge in his heart...don't trust him." Your observations are true; he's troubled, to say the least. "Casey feels really good right now, too good. Something bad is about to happen with Ivan..." You were right; he's being hunted by the pixies now. That is not a good thing at all.**

**Eve: Thank you so much! I can't take credit for the oaty. It's the okapi found in Africa (Ituri Rainforest). There are others in which I just changed a few characteristics to existing creatures.**

**Backroads: It's weird how the pixies found their way into this story. Mary Elizabeth Whitcombe wrote of "various tribes of pixies." She explained that some were good, some mischievous, and some quite evil. I couldn't help but wonder how the tribes would get on together. Why are some mean? Are they protecting something? And - voila! - they appeared.**


	42. Thought Rhythms

Chapter 42 – Thought Rhythms

On her way, she searched for food, finding only the bland-tasting, stick-like vegetable she and Ivan had jokingly compared to a hotdog. Her stomach would not cease in its noisy cadences. She pulled open the striped plant and began to scrape out the insides with her front teeth, hoping to quell the pleas of hunger. It wouldn't be very attractive at all to accompany her questions to the prince with a symphony of gurgling from her middle. She worked on consuming it determinedly, even chewing on strips of inedible rind, which she was forced to reject and spit out. It wasn't enough, and she tossed the mangled remains away in irritation.

Oliver wasn't there when she reached their tryst at the brink of night, which gave her no light to return. Anxiously, she stood at the base she'd climbed the evening before and squinted to make out the colored lights across the way. She couldn't hear the music, but saw the billows of multihued smoke. Casey felt tense in the silence. She pressed her hand to her throat, feeling as though the heavy air could not be inhaled. What a dumb thing to do, coming at night! Her only recourse was to climb up and wait until daylight, hoping no carnivorous animal would be on the prowl seeking a late night snack. Using her fingers, she groped her way to the top and sat down. Even though she'd been there before, without any source of light it was unfamiliar. She pulled her knees in and tucked her head down, listening to her short, nervous breaths. Someone was singing; and, though she scanned the gorge, she knew it was a voice from the forest behind her.

The blue light seemed to rest on nothing in the darkness, but Casey knew who held that soft light! The song grew louder as he approached.

~0~

"Direct your eyes,

The glowing lamps,

To this hollow rock

Of Dreone.

~0~

Stir the waters,

Your silken paths,

From the Ebydd's tree

In Drakkytbet."

~0~

He climbed the rock and his tall, stately frame drew up to the height of the platform where Casey waited. "I was sure you wouldn't come."

"I wasn't going to, but…," She didn't finish the sentence, knowing her motive for changing her mind was selfish.

"It is enough." He sat beside her and they didn't speak a word. Casey was bursting with questions, but disinclined to begin the conversation by plying him for information.

Finally, she came up with a means to veil her curiosity. "The pixies were all around my side of the rock when I came back. They were angry because someone stole the Zource."

Casey described what had met her at the shelter less than an hour before, and Oliver quickly observed, "And you believe Ivan didn't take it?"

"I think it was one of the pixies. Ivan wouldn't cross to the other side of the gorge; I just know it."

"You spoke of people being crazy in the cave containing the stories, but you don't seem to think Ivan is crazy."

Casey thought for a moment. "No, I don't think he's crazy. He does get mad a lot, but I think it's the way he deals with this place. Regardless, I just know Ivan didn't take Zyri's Zource."

"You know him that well?"

"I feel like I've known him forever because of what we've been through," she mused.

"Sharing a difficult experience can cause you to feel closer to a stranger." His observation left her dissatisfied. "You are fighting with your heart, are you not? You don't want to believe Ivan would go to the others. There is always a chance because we are human; we need other humans."

She recalled earlier that day how Zyri had told her the prince wasn't human. She had known he was human! Still, the pixie's words had bothered her. "Zyri said you have the scent of the dragonflies, and you are of the dragonflies."

"Pixies rely almost entirely on their senses. It is what enslaves them."

She thought on this for a time before replying, "I think I know what you mean, but I think sometimes having a feeling about things enslaves a person more." He looked at her thoughtfully, and there was a companionable silence in which it occurred to Casey that he hadn't answered the lingering question in her mind. "So," she spoke half-jestingly, "Are you human or are you dragonfly?"

"Can't I be both?" He watched her expression in the dim light.

"You mean, you're part dragonfly? Like, you -,"

"I am connected to the dragonflies because they sense me and know me. In this way, I am one of them. They took to me when they were young, in the dragonfly's first phases of life." He stretched out his legs, leaning back on his palms. "Do you know what they are called before they molt and fly away?" Casey shook her head. "Nymphs. They settle onto a stalk or leaf or branch and slowly break out of their old skin. Wherever they settle, they instinctively develop a familiarity for that place. If a nymph settles on a living being, its scent will always remain on that being."

"So… Ah! Then the dragonfly remembers the person – or animal or whatever – and follows them around."

"Dragonflies are free to go where they please. Yet, a dragonfly will return to its nymph harbor when it is summoned."

"So, you could summon them right now?"

"Yes, but it would not help you." He responded to her questioning expression, "Each time the dragonflies are summoned, Kapyn wakens and the task of feeding him begins afresh. The Karshra – the 'portal' you call it – is opened, but the dragon guards it. There is little hope of return without the dragonflies' aid."

"But some have returned."

"Not of those whose scent is known to Kapyn." Casey sighed. "There is also danger in taking the portal without the guidance of the dragonflies. Only they can return you to where you were originally swarmed."

"Swarmed?"

"Yes. When they take you. You remember this, don't you?"

"It's a bit blurry."

"A portion of it will always remain so. The transference is something the mind does not instinctively know how to translate. Many have the impression they were asleep."

"Ivan said he was already sleeping."

"Yes. That happens, too. The dragonflies are often attracted to the activity of the mind when the body is at rest; the paths of thought are the most lucid then."

"You mean, they could read his thoughts?"

"Not his thoughts, only the movement of thought. You see, the mind flows in courses; the path of a thought can take many avenues. It is this rhythm which intrigues the dragonfly." As she tried to grasp his meaning, Oliver softly added, "I heard your mind's rhythm when my dragonflies first found you."

"You can hear my mind?"

"Not at the moment; but when my friends are close, they give to me what they perceive. This, too, is a way I am connected to them."

"Does that mean you can hear what I'm thinking?"

"No, but I'm learning to see that in your face," he teased. Casey put her head down, embarrassed. "What? You don't want me to know what you're thinking?" He tentatively brought his hands to the sides of her face and tilted her head to look at him. Bashfully, she pulled away, unconsciously touching her cheek and feeling the warmth his hand had left soon replaced by a blush.

She avoided his eyes and tried to pretend his playfulness hadn't affected her. "So, what do they sound like - thoughts?"

"They are similar to your lightning storms, but quiet."

"Like, when you have static cling?"

"I don't recall static cling. What is it?"

"You know, static electricity - when your shirt comes out of the dryer and… Yeah, you wouldn't know about that. Or, how about when your hair stands up when you brush it in the wintertime… Oh, yeah – there's no winter here. I'm sure you've heard of it, but I can't think of a good example." She shrugged. "But, 'mind activity'. That's interesting."

He returned his palms to rest behind him. His back was straight as he inhaled deeply. She watched him until he caught her glance, sending a different sort of charge through her. "When I first heard your mind, I think you were taunting them. It woke me, the smooth, even rhythm of your thoughts. I sent them back to wait for you, but you didn't return for a long time. Why?"

"They freaked me out." To his bemused expression, she told him, "Seriously, it's not normal to have that many dragonflies buzzing around you all at once."

He seemed to accept this and grew contemplative. "As the mind develops, the thoughts can begin to travel more erratically, as though they are skipping to find ways around impasses. For you, that isn't happening as frequently yet."

"So, the dragonflies liked me because my thoughts have a good rhythm?"

He nodded, and his laugh was a brief, close breath that stole from his lips. The night didn't feel so thick now; she wasn't suffocating anymore. She extended her legs and stretched back, imitating his attitude. Her finger touched his wrist, and she didn't move it away.

* * *

**A/N: My beta likes the info in this chapter. Thank you, thank you, Tater748!! More Casey/Dfly P conversation to come.**

**Arista Everett June: Wow, those are great, pertinent questions. I'm making them part of my list for what needs to be answered. I hope you're feeling better!!**

**Iliana11: "So, is Zyri the Zource carrier?" Are you thinking of the Zourcezerver tribe? Zyri is of the Fleshgatherer tribe. Tribes can share their supplies with each other. Zourcezervers have the task of seeing to the maintenance and guardianship of the Zource. In chapter 10, there is a general dissatisfaction with how the Zource is shared/not shared. Zyri being in possession of a container of it is something she will have to take the consequences for if the other tribes learn she attained it on her own. – I know I haven't explained this thoroughly in the story yet. Thanks for the correction! I've changed it.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Are the Greads the same as the wild men Casey was asking Zyri about?" There are different clans on the other side of the gorge. The Greads are one of the strongest and most merciless. You are definitely reading my mind on a few things in your review! Oh, but I'll tell you this: Oliver isn't framing Ivan. Thanks tons for your thoughts. Really great.**

**Lady Thorne: "I really love how complex this story is becoming!!" It's fun as long as there is a plausible, satisfactory ending. Without that, it's just hopeless chaos. Chaos is my inner antagonist at the moment, whispering, "I'll get you **_**and**_** your little dog, too! Mwahahaha-" Oh, well. Thanks for loving this story!**


	43. Translation

**A/N: We're delving into Oliver's character more. He's experienced a lot, and hasn't had anyone to share it with. And, yes, Lady Thorne, he's very philosophical. :)**

Chapter 43 – Translation

Casey's stomach was mildly requesting more sustenance; she continued talking to keep her mind off it. "So, this thing you're going to do to help me return when the Viliath comes, I guess it involves swarming."

"It does."

"I don't know if I'd like being swarmed again," she mused.

"You can always stay…"

"Oh, I'll get used to the idea," she added hurriedly. "I've gotten used to a heap of things here."

"Tell me. What are you used to?"

"Um… eating seeds and weird vegetables. I'm not really a vegetable person. I like corn, when it's cooked. …electric fish, pythons… Pixies are a big leap for me. Oh, and a dragon, of course." She grinned. "This is all normal to you."

"No. The pixies and dragon are fairly new to me, too."

"There aren't any pixies on the other side of the gorge?"

"None."

"And no dragons?" He shook his head. "But," she attempted to check herself, knowing the words she had read in the cave that day might be a sensitive topic for him, "I thought there were dragon gods."

"How do you know of that?" The question was insistent, though there was no anger in his tone.

"I – I found your story when I went to the cave today," she admitted.

"My story?" He sighed and she heard the dissatisfaction. She moved her leg uneasily where the lump of papers was nestled.

"I've only read a little bit, but I want to read it all."

"Why?"

She shook her head. "I don't know." She didn't want to tell him the portion she had read because it was uncomfortable to talk of what the Greads had done to him. Still, she'd opened up the subject; should she speak of the rest?

"Follow me." The words were decisive, and she sat up attentively, watching him rise. The blue light descended with him, and she quickly stood to catch up. He walked the opposite way from the direction they had approached. Lifting the glow to the surface of the bone, he told her. "These runes, they are all over the caves and rocks across the gorge. They bear the records of a time when many dragons inhabited Dreone. Some give lists of the dragons and their offspring."

"Dragon offspring?"

"Yes. There were so many, they fought over the caves. Humankind lived with them, but not entirely peacefully. The runes tell of the civilizations which were destroyed by war or dragon. The ones here all tell a similar story of a people who triumphed over a great creature that wasn't a dragon."

She traced the inscription with her finger, which wiped away a dusty layer. "I read something today about a mythical beast called an Io or O-i…"

"Iothun. Yes, that is the name given to it here. It means 'great beast.' The word doesn't give any understanding or description of what it was."

She pointed to a well-delineated cluster of figures illuminated by the light in his hand. "What does this say?"

He brushed away some of the debris and scanned the strange lines, pointing to the wavy script to the right first. 'Victory.' He moved counterclockwise along it. "'capture' or 'guard'. And the next indicates a span of time, generally meaning an era. This one," he was touching the next set. "I'm not sure of it. You see, this part is 'fire' and this resembles the body of a dragon. It might be a dragon, or it might be denoting the concept of power or force." Now he pointed to the center of the cluster of drawings. "This is 'handclasp', which binds the previous thought to a concept given at the last. It might mean victory guards something powerful for a long time and that is connected with…" Now, he examined the last rune at the base of the cluster. "A 'gift'? I'm not certain what this is. It looks like 'gift', but it depends on the context."

"This one is easier to translate," he told her, pointing to a three-figure set. "Do you see how the top one and the lower one look the same?" She nodded. "But they are not the same. Look closely."

Casey studied the symbols and finally shook her head. "I don't see any difference."

"It is very small. It is this one stroke in the corner on the top one."

"Well, that's confusing!"

"Very. Do you want to know what the saying is?"

"Yes."

"'Untruth cloaks itself in truth'."

The corner of Casey's mouth lifted in comprehension. "I like that. It's hard to know the truth from a lie a lot of times."

"It is." He paused and stared off toward the gorge to the left. "Do you believe there is a truth one can know for certain?"

"I hope so! If there can be a lie, there has to be a truth, right?"

"Unless we merely create it."

Casey pursed her lips, not sure she understood him. She struggled to get a fix on his meaning, and asked, "But there _are_ lies. I mean, some things are just not true."

"Are they?"

She swung around and pointed to the rune saying, "What's the point of this saying then? Why would someone write about untruth if the truth is just a made-up thing?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps it is because everyone feels deceived – we all know the pain of betrayal – and so we create a sort of system to guard from that feeling. Maybe this was only written to give credence to the belief that knowing what is wrong defines what is right."

"I don't think that's what that saying is at all," she argued, her tone holding a tinge of annoyance.

He leaned against the structure and wiped his prints off the surface indifferently. "We can't know with any surety. Even this saying; if we studied it for centuries, there would always be other ways of translating it. That is the problem with written work: the definition of even basic concepts changes with time. More importantly, the one who reads it does so with a limited understanding."

He lifted the light between them, and their eyes met by its illumination. "I wanted you to see that everyone has a story - it might be called a person's own truth. It is in our nature to communicate, but the message can never be completely understood."

* * *

**A/N: My beta called this a "thought-provoking" chapter. The end of the next chapter will head into the action again, in case someone is panicking that the story's going to remain on this level.**

**Only one review reply, since it's lengthy; and it's my beta's. I've tried to tackle some of the comments Tater748 provided in her edits in the hopes that they echo what others may find confusing in this chapter.**

**1. "Is Oliver saying he does not believe in any absolute truth?"**

**Yes; or, at least, he's questioning whether there is absolute truth. I'm a firm believer in absolute truth, and wanted to introduce the no absolutes belief similarly to the way it was introduced to me.**

**2. "I think he might be suggesting that Casey can not depend on what is written, for instance about Dreone..." **

**Exactly. Ivan expressed this, too, by his thoughts on the stories in the cave. Those stories depict what information we happen upon in life, specifically when it comes to belief systems. Some info is blatantly ridiculous (like the invisible dog story), while other beliefs are harder to come to a conclusion on. Like Ivan, some readers will ditch the whole 'library' because of how deluded some of the info is.**

**3. "Obviously, translating from one language to another can be subjective in places, especially with runes (as opposed to words that have a definite meaning that is more or less universal). Words that mean 'water' or 'sand' or 'male' or 'female' would have to have a correlating word in the other language, right?" **

**Can something as definite as 'water' or 'sand' be misinterpreted? Yes. Here's a word used in the original language of the New Testament that has a correlating word or concept: baptizō. It means "to immerse, to submerge." When the Bible was translated into English, as authorized by King James in 1611, the translators decided to just make up a word based on the original Greek word instead of translating it. "Baptize" was created. Why? Because King James was sprinkled, and they were very concerned with staying on the Church of England's good side. Years earlier, a guy was burned at the stake as a heretic for translating words like 'baptizō'. (Ironically, most of the KJ version came from his translations.) By using one of the oldest, most available books around, I've, hopefully, illustrated how meanings change, and readers aren't always aware of it or the reasons behind it.**

**Just so you know, I believe the Bible is the God-breathed message, and those who really seek to know the truth will find it. Also, I'm not against using the KJ version.  
**


	44. Don't Look Back

Chapter 44 – Don't Look Back

"You mean 'a person's own truth' like the stories in the cave? It's funny now; I was so excited when I first found out about those stories."

"Why?" he asked as she tried to suppress a yawn.

"Because then I knew other people had been here, and could tell me more about Dreone. Wow, was I wrong. I mean, who wants to know a story about somebody's invisible dog?"

"You read it with your own purpose," he observed.

"I didn't actually read it. Ivan told me about it. But…what's wrong with reading it with my own purpose? Whose purpose should I be reading it with?" she asked rhetorically.

"Suppose you found a story about building a boat, but at the time you were trying to find one about how to return home. How important would the boat story be to you?"

"Not very; mainly because that's not a priority. I mean, if I needed to build a boat, then yeah, I'd want to read it."

"That's my point: you are reading according to your situation. Your mind isn't open to what the writer is trying to tell you. Take the writer of the boat story; what if his purpose wasn't to help _you_ build a boat?"

"Are you saying I should read the invisible dog story because there is a deeper meaning?"

"No. His purpose for writing was simple enough: he wanted a companion, so he invented one." The silence was tense, and Casey couldn't understand why.

"So, what is _your_ story's purpose?" she asked directly.

"Do you truly want to know?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Then read it with the understanding that I'm the writer instead of picking through it only for what you want to hear or want me to tell you."

She pulled away from him defensively, but he put his hand on her shoulder. "You asked, and I told you. I'm not accustomed to speaking of what is in me, but I want to be clear with you so you won't misunderstand."

"Oh, I don't think I could misunderstand that." She huffed, looking up at him tentatively. "Don't you think that's a bit of an assumption, though?"

"Is it? You searched for my story and read it after I told you it was there. Why?"

"To know about you. To understand who you are."

"But that wasn't my purpose in writing it." His calm, dark eyes held no glimmer of reproach. "You see?"

Her pride smarted under his gaze, and she fought the feeling. "Does it hurt anything to read it for my own purpose?"

He dropped his hand from her shoulder. "Exactly. Who am I to tell you how to read my story."

"You mean because you're the author, you should have the right to tell me how to read it-,"

"Do I? Do I have any right to tell you to do anything?"

"No. It's my choice." She yawned for the second time.

"Come." He motioned with the arm holding the light, an invitation to walk with him. "I should have taken you back long ago. But, Casey, talking with you frees me from my thoughts, and you listen to my words and questions."

"Ah," she teased, "but do you listen to mine? I wonder."

"Have I not listened to you?" The query was filled with sincerity.

"You have! I was joking." She laughed as the earnest look disappeared from his face to become the familiar curve of his lips which she loved. "You have," she repeated softly, noticing the appreciative way he watched her mirth. "And we've both asked lots of questions; but, you seem to know the answers to yours already," she thought aloud, sighing. "Oh, there are so many things I don't know…"

"When we meet again, we will speak on what you know, then."

"That would be a limited discussion."

"I meant I wish to know about you. No more of these things that cause you to become exasperated with me."

"I'm not exasperated. Really," she assured him. "And I don't know what I'd tell you about me that would be interesting." Thoughts of his life across the gorge flitted across her mind. Her life, her thoughts, her world seemed mundane in comparison.

"Your mind resides in a limitless sphere, Casey; and your heart is boundless. I could not know all that is you in a lifetime." He walked beside her, the azure light lifted in his hand to aid them, when Casey found herself doing something unexpected. Certainly, she had not premeditated the idea of slipping her hand into his. His fingers tightened around hers protectively and remained that way until they came to the fence at the pixies' rock.

She reflected with wonder on the warm emotions bubbling up. How could something so new be so comfortable this quickly? He wanted to please her; she could only be thrilled in that knowledge. She could tell he wanted to explain anything she wanted to know, listen to anything she wanted to say. He wasn't merely putting up with her.

He had spoken heatedly about his story; and, though she had been offended briefly, his reaction had encouraged the candidness between them. She had kindled some feeling within him, and he had responded. How had she been able to do that? He seemed removed from being touched emotionally; and, yet, she had been aware of the intensity all along.

The last feeling, which begged to be named, was something to which she refused to give words. It was the catch in her breath when he brought his eyes to hers, and how her pulse quickened when he talked of what he saw in her. With him, she was as a precious wild bird, which might fly from his reach with the slightest provocation; she felt how he cherished the seconds as they stared upon each other in curiosity. It was completely different from being with Ivan, who interrogated her like a criminal and hurled words like she was his punching bag.

The nagging voice, reminding her that she didn't know where Ivan was, ruined her peaceful ramblings of thought, and brought her back to reality as the pixies' rock came into view. She felt Oliver's hand release hers abruptly, and wondered if he had been watching her face. Had he seen her frown? He lifted the glowing rock toward the shelter, scanning the sky above. Following his gaze, she perceived a curling, caliginous shape in the distance. "What is it?" she whispered.

"Kapyn has flown." There was something in his tone that alarmed her. "The mountain isn't lit with his fire."

He grabbed her arm above her elbow. "Casey, you need to hide. Take this," he directed, placing the burning rock into her hand. The feel of it shocked her senses, it was icy and smooth like a pane of glass on a winter morning. "Go to the cave. Run!"

"Not Kapyn's!"

"No, the cave in the gorge. And, Casey, don't stop. Even if you hear voices, don't look back."

"But what if I get lost in there? People have died that way!"

"I will come for you. Seek the wind passages; they will lead you to the water. Follow against the current, and I will find you. Don't – don't! - touch the water at all."

"Why?" She shook her head in confusion.

"There isn't time to speak more. They are coming for me. Do as I've told you!"

As she held the blue stone close, she felt him push her shoulder; and she ran.

The halo of light from the stone was barely able to illuminate the circumference of three steps. She couldn't see where she was running until she was almost upon it. Her heart was in her throat as she tripped on one of the sticks she'd left in the path earlier that day; and, twice, she veered off the path. Without confidence in her ability to find the way, her pace slackened.

When she reached the fork to continue on to the gorge or run to Ivan's hut, she heard a sharp crack to the right. Was it Ivan? After Oliver's warning, she was afraid to call out. She didn't stop to look in the direction of his shelter, but burst into a fresh sprint. A sound reached her ear from behind. She didn't know what it was, but no animal, insect, or pixie had ever made a sound like that. It was a clicking, hollow drone that began softly and grew louder. It came from different regions behind her now. She didn't _want_ to look over her shoulder to find what was making that noise. There wasn't an ounce of curiosity; fear hadn't left any room for it.

An anxious thought found its way through the tangled impressions crowding her brain: She couldn't see the gorge ahead. What if she missed the steps to the glader's pool and fell over the side of the steep drop? Concentrating to steady her consciousness, she forced the frenzied thoughts into the background to study the branches and vines she passed; and they were familiar! Without understanding when it had occurred, her mind already had the path mapped out.

She had only meters to go when a cramp jabbed her side suddenly, causing her breathing to run shallow. She pressed her elbow into her ribs, trying to cradle it; but she was using the hand on that side to hold the rock. It was almost as if the light had gone out as she tucked it close, then quickly passed it into her other hand. The sound whizzed by her ear. It was then that she realized the noise was an object flying through the darkness. Casey bent her head down and inhaled, creating a sharp, digging pain which she tried her best to ignore. Whatever the flying object was, she was certain it was meant to stop her.

A picture emerged in her mind's eye. The glader's pool was just a few strides away. Impulsively, she turned off the worn path and through the creeper-covered forest, racing toward the natural steps. Her foot caught on the tightly wound foliage and she fell. Her palm hit the rocky surface of the top step to the pool as the blue light clinked downward, tapping each step in succession as it rolled and disappeared from view.

Casey half-crawled, half-skidded down into the cavity. Her eyes couldn't adjust to the empty darkness; she could only search for the burning rock with her hands. There wasn't a speck of blue light anywhere! Quickly, she swiped her hand across the base of the steps, touching only dirt and pebbles. Again, the noise approached from above and she stumbled forward over the soft mounds of soil. She swayed to the right, hoping to find the wall to use it as a guide in stepping around onto the cliff overlooking the gorge. She touched the damp, mossy structure and gasped with relief. Steadying herself, she prepared for the climb, hesitating only to dig her hand under her ribcage. The stitch wasn't going away.

Hugging the wet surface, she stepped around the enclosure onto the thin ledge. The darkness seemed to hit her palpably. There was nothing she could see. Visually, the depth of the great land-crevasse and the tiny, sloping escarpment were the same. She pressed her face, arms, and chest to the wall and began the climb. She felt sick in her stomach; the feelings of imminent danger during the chase had now given way to a breathless dread of falling. A bright flash caught her eye as she turned her head in the direction of the cave's opening. She continued her cautious steps, but kept alert, looking for the light. It came into view again abruptly, and she realized it was from across the gorge. The flickers of torches were weaving in and out of the trees. The wild ones! What were they doing? The thoughts were too much to consider under her distress. She turned her head back to the wall and forced herself to think only of the next step.

Her legs almost gave way in relief as her searching hand found the opening to the cave. She dropped to the floor after a few seconds of positioning, and froze, huddled in a mass of thankfulness intermingled with waves of trepidation, distrusting that she was now safe. It took time before she could think what to do again. Even standing was a chore, her muscles were so tense and the stitch unbearable.

Oliver had said to follow the water, but she'd never found water there. Where was she to go? Which way would lead to the water?

* * *

**A/N: Back to the action! One more question from Tater748:**

"**It sounds like Oliver is saying that to understand what is written, the reader must consider the intent of the writer. Not try to read things into what is there. So does this mean that reading anything is an exercise in futility unless the reader knows where the author is coming from?"**

**A writer's purpose isn't always to inform or explain. Yet, with Oliver's story, it is important to him that she takes what he has to tell seriously. (We haven't made it to what his story is about yet, and that has alot to do with his reasons.) This is also an analogy about studying religious matters with one's own object, ignoring principles and concepts because they are not the priority, or main focus, in the mind of the reader. For instance, I think reading the Bible **_**is**_** an exercise in futility if the reader doesn't come to embrace the Writer's purpose.**

**LaLa De Dum: "M****y vote is still on Kapyn eating Oliver, it just seems the best way to go." Not attached to Ivan at all, are you? :) It's great that you're being loyal to the muddy guy.**

**Iliana11: You quoted C.S. Lewis! Cool. I haven't read Mere Christianity yet, but want to. Casey is almost sixteen; and while she might have pulled out a book to quote to him if she'd had it, it's her reason against his at the moment. Right now she has to work her way through it on her level and from her perspective.**

**Backroads: "…I love your religious/spiritual parallels!" Really?! It's a dimension I crave. Fantasy is a challenging venue in which to introduce a principle without sacrificing either the credibility of the story's environment or the integrity of the principle itself. You can see I'm practicing. :o}**

**Arista Everett June: So, I wrote this whole paragraph explaining Oliver's pov. Then I realized the story has to explain him to you. So, you'll have to wait to understand him more. One thing I hope you can gain from this chapter: Oliver relishes thinking out loud to someone else; someone who not only doesn't pose a threat, but she's compassionate and genuine. "The story most def. is getting deeper...but it's still a simple character study…" Yay! I was hoping it was evident the 'anchor' for the plot hasn't drifted, and you've shown me it hasn't.**

**Quiet Mindreader: I thought about you today. I wondered why you had to eat that éclaire pie without my help. :(** **"'The pixies and dragon are fairly new to me, too.' -- Really? That kind of kills my theory." Aw. I really didn't want to kill that theory. Are you sure it's dead?** **You'll be able to get a better idea of the Viliath soon.**


	45. Unbreathable

Chapter 45 - Unbreathable

Out of habit, she searched for the vine. Once she found it, she grasped it tightly to her side, but couldn't force another step. "Come on," she told herself, sapped of strength. Frustrated, she clutched the vine tightly, and the small thorns on the lesser creepers stung her palms. The pain seemed to wake her senses, and she began to trudge forward. The thought of calling for the lumins did not even occur to her, she had been in the darkness for such a steady length of time. Yet, when her groping hand grazed a dried glader carcass in her search for the next cavern opening, the word 'light' was on her lips. Still, she refrained. Surely, an infinitesimal amount of illumination would be spotted in the chasmic darkness outside the cave.

She paused to listen only twice, wondering with spine-tingling apprehension whether she might perceive that droning sound which had pursued her to the cave. She heard nothing and moved forward, listening to her shoes scrape the floor as she slid them hesitantly along to feel her way to a safe step. When the floor began to shift beneath her, she knew she'd found the stacks of papers, which brought a temporary sense of relief. She knew where she was, but still didn't know where she was going. Was this the right way to find the water?

Her foot knocked into the water bowl she had left for Ivan, spilling some of it on her shoe and ankle. She wanted to cry out in irritation. She could have used that water! Reaching down, she felt the inside. A small pool remained in the base and she lifted it to her mouth for the last few drops.

Finally, she entered the largest cavern, still clutching her side. It was easy to perceive because, even in the darkness, she could feel the vastness of it. Like a bat, who knows the distances by reflecting sound, Casey found solace in the echoes of her shuffling movements.

She moved around the stalagmite where she had hidden days before, and remembered that the vine led into the narrow corridor behind it. Did she really want to go in there? No. It was too deep, a never-ending trail to nowhere. That just couldn't be right. Yet, she paused at the opening, dropping the vine; she would have to explore the deeper regions of the cave without it. Would Oliver really be able to find her? Did he know the labyrinthine paths of this cave that well? She swallowed thickly; and, just as she turned to try another direction, something cooled her wet ankle. She stood stock still, realizing what the slight sensation told her. Wind! She hadn't felt it all her time in Dreone. The response rippled through her frame.

Yet, her lips drooped into a frown. It was just her luck that the wind would be in that horrid, looming hallway. Oh, she didn't want to go there! She tried persuading herself that if she was really going to tred that path, she must have lumins – something to supply her with courage. So, she called to them and they came. Unfortunately, the endless, menacing pathway didn't seem any less foreboding with lambency. She steeled herself and walked forward. This would be a long trek.

The drifts of air in the passage crept through the hall once more before her ankle dried. Then, she found it conducive to hold her moistened index finger out. Yet, the draft wasn't continual; it came and went, leaving her time enough to doubt whether she'd felt the movement of air at all, only to be reassured by an apathetic ribbon of current a few minutes later. The stitch in her side finally let up, though it never fully ceased. She stopped repeatedly to stretch out her muscles in her chest and side, but it didn't seem to have much effect. The more she walked, the heavier her limbs became. She was so tired.

She tripped over something and screamed, finding the object was a rotting cadaver. Immediately, she picked herself up and pressed forward to create distance. Her hands had not stopped shaking before she came upon another. It was all she could do to keep from being stymied by the horror. She couldn't turn back now; she had to make it through that interminable passage.

It seemed like days before she saw an opening gaping ahead. Was that the end? Was she almost free of that stifling corridor? She couldn't seem to control her breathing and wondered why. A wave of intense nausea crashed over her, her body had had enough. She dropped to the floor, the way out still in view. She couldn't go anymore. Was it lack of sleep that had her head spinning? She couldn't get a big enough breath, but gasped reflexively over and over. She had to keep moving! 'Don't stop. Don't stop,' she panted, working to crawl toward the exit, as the black spots bled into her vision. The nausea kept coming and she heard a low noise, not realizing immediately that she was moaning. Her arms were stiff beneath her. There wasn't a trace of energy left to salvage; she wasn't going to make it. Her heavy lids closed, and she fell over, her chest performing spasmodic attempts at retrieving air.

"This hurts," was her last thought, as the resonating brightness of the lumin shapes began to fade behind her eyelids.

The next minute her lungs were burning and she was going to throw up. She had the vague notion someone was crouched down over her face. Very close. What was happening? She gave a rattling cough and was pushed over onto her side. There hadn't been much in her stomach, but she was quickly relieved of the hotdog-vegetable pieces. Afterward, she couldn't get enough air. The more she breathed in, the more she wanted. She was wheezing with the effort of it; her head becoming lighter with the immediate influx of oxygen.

"Whoa," she said, as she grabbed her head, attempting to sit up and see who was nearby.

"What are you doing here?" The speed with which Casey turned to be sure of the person who had spoken was enough to send her into another bout of dry heaves.

"Ivan! What are you-,"

"I asked you first. Where did you come from? It's possible I'm turned around, but with you way up here.... Did you follow me?"

"No. I was hiding, following the wind through the cave in the gorge like Oliver told me to do."

"Hm." The syllable was dismissive. Casey noticed how the lumin light cast a reflection off the rocks as he walked over to one of numerous hall-like entrances along the wall of the cavern. "I pulled you from this passage. You say you came from the cave in the gorge?"

"Yeah. It was a long walk, and I haven't had any sleep. I got really woozy."

"You got really suffocated. Casey, there's not enough air in these passages."

"Oh," was all she could answer. A headache had arrived, descending like a swift anvil.

"Well, that's just my luck. The way through to the cave is unbreathable. Perfect."

"Why were you looking for that?" Casey mumbled, squeezing her throbbing forehead.

"I wasn't - just like I wasn't looking for you – but I was pretty sure the cave in the gorge connected somewhere. I still don't understand why you'd try that; why didn't you just stay in the part of the cave you knew about and hide there?"

"I told you; Oliver -,"

"Who's Oliver?"

"The dragonfly prince."

"Oh, right. He just showed up in the cave and told you to walk down a tunnel. Did he tell you to breathe carbon dioxide, too?"

"Stop it, Ivan. Oliver wasn't in the cave, but he's coming for me. Where's the water?"

"What?"

"He told me to find the water."

"Don't even think about going near that fetid ditch!"

"I'm not going to touch it; I've already been warned. We have to follow it against the current to find the way-,"

"I know the way out, Casey. And, there is no 'we'."

"Fine. Just tell me where the water is." Casey stood up and the pounding became worse behind her eyes.

"I'll take you to it; but, be warned, what you see there will not be pleasant."

"And I've seen so many pleasant things in caves since I've been here."

"You haven't seen this. I'm telling you, it's a good thing you got rid of your supper already."

As she followed, Casey drew close to him cautiously. They were standing high up on a small plateau. The lumin light cast an arch of brilliance over the large cavern. While the numbers of lumins seemed sparse, the light spanned out, reflecting off sparkling stones embedded in the craggy walls.

They were in a vaulted rotunda stacked from top to bottom in a series of striated levels of land. It looked like a varicolored honeycomb with innumerable holes and gaps, some of them entrances to passages. Ivan, experienced in climbing the steep escarpments, was finding the shortest distances from one stratum to the next, and jumping down. He was a few meters away from her before he noticed her progress was almost nonexistent.

Not willing to ask him for anything, Casey had refused to bring attention to her plight. While he could maneuver the height-tall steps, the climb down was too difficult for her. She couldn't find a foothold, and didn't dare try jumping for fear she'd get too close to the edge and fall to her death.

"I'd like to make it by sunrise, if you don't mind," he said.

"Please refrain from remarking unless you intend to be of some assistance, Ivan."

"Fine with me," he replied, continuing his descent.

* * *

**A/N: Ivan's back! So, what do you think he's been up to?**

**Eve: That is a huge compliment that Casey's not a flat character. I feel pretty sympathetic towards my characters, and get miffed and frightened for them. Oh, I'd be reading everything I could, too! I really appreciated your thoughtful review.**

**Arista Everett June: You'll find out who she is running from soon. Until then, aren't you simply in raptures that she found Ivan? And he's being a complete toad, as usual.** **"Ivan is a 'survivor/loner' and Oliver is a 'leader/comforter'." Have you really discovered this between the lines of the story? *sighs happily* By the way, Ivan and Oliver are the same in many ways, too. They are both survivors; they just have different ways of reacting.  
**

**Iliana11: Regarding your dislike of Oliver's "pulling the relative truth card," I'm reminded of what PB's Wesley says: **_"That does put a damper on (the) relationship."_** So, I guess I'm a nerd, too. Really, what is a person who is not a nerd? Normal? I think there are more nerds than normal people; so wouldn't that make nerds normal? Then what would we call the formerly-known-as-'normal' ones?**

**Lady Thorne: "…this shows to me that silly english teachers who go way in depth into the books we have to read are wasting their time." Lol!! We should rebel and refuse to read anything but fanfiction! :D**

**Backroads: I almost didn't include Casey's thoughts on her walk back with Oliver, but wrote it at the last minute. It changed the atmosphere of the chapter and the view of their relationship, I think. *grins happily* In the past four reviews, I believe, you have noted aspects of this story which have had me looking at my scribbling from a different angle. It's quite lovely how you do that. Thank you so much!**

**Quiet Mindreader: Yes, Oliver has read the invisible dog story… and many, many more. There will be more about Oliver's story soon. "I'm picturing these flying robotic probes…" It's more primitive. You know, I may take you up on that eclair pie someday. ;)**


	46. Close Mouth, Insert Foot

Chapter 46 – Close Mouth, Insert Foot

She watched him impassively as he scouted out the next foothold. Then, unexpectedly, he shook the hair from his face, huffed, and began to ascend toward her. She was surprised; she had been reconciled to the idea that he wasn't going to help her down. Just then, a gust of air hit. She inhaled instinctively and it caught in her throat. "Oh, that is revolting," she coughed out.

"Yep. Now, it goes here," he directed, and almost dislodged her by grabbing her foot and pushing it into the groove between the jutting slabs.

"Hey! I have enough trouble with balance!"

"Really? Balance isn't your strong point?" he mocked.

She followed him along the ledge to a suitable place to climb down, and watched his progress. Thinking she had an idea of where her foot should go, she was caught off guard again as he yanked her ankle to reach the groove below. "Ivan!"

"Close mouth, insert foot."

"Ha, h-!" she said before her elbow slipped. The sharp sting that followed wasn't enough to make her stop and check for scratches. She had to concentrate on keeping up with him; he could maneuver his weight along the uneven ridges much faster than she. They came to a series of layers, like a massive staircase; yet, the widest steps were only the length of her hand. There was no place to stop and rest along the way, but she felt reluctant to voice her doubts.

Places to put her feet were frequent for a time; but, as soon as she came to a step with a lengthy distance to the next, the climb became too difficult. Her foot almost slipped, and Ivan caught it, placing it onto the thin shelf firmly. Squeezing her eyes and bowing her head for a moment to steady herself, she pleaded, "There has to be a better way down."

"You just need to follow my lead. When I grab the left foot, you lean to the right, and vice versa. Get into the rhythm, and use your upper body more. You're relying almost entirely on your legs."

"And I completely left my Biceps for Mountain Climbing Workout at home," replied Casey breathlessly, trying to shift her weight the way he'd directed. It wasn't working. Moments later, her hand slid over wetness on the rough stone, before she quickly found a place to grasp.

"Gross! I have something on my-," Suddenly, she felt a movement trailing down toward her elbow. "Wait. Stop!" She kicked out at Ivan, as he yanked at her foot. "Stop! There's something crawling on me."

She turned her arm to find a long, bright red line with a stream of blood dripping off her bent elbow. "Oh, no."

"If you'd looked, you'd have noticed there are some extremely sharp pieces in the rock. Try to avoid them from now on." He took hold of her ankle again. "Keep moving, Casey."

Regardless, her hands became streaked in blood, as she gouged them repeatedly while trying to grip the stone and work her way down. Once she finally reached the ground, she wiped the excess on her shirt; then realized, as Ivan stared at her, it was his shirt she was wearing. "Oh. Sorry 'bout that."

"I wanted that back. It was the only one that covered my arms without being too hot. Why didn't you change back into your shirt again?"

Casey noticed the black jacket tied around his waist. "I just didn't think about it. Mine had all that sweat…" She looked at him sheepishly.

He shook his head. He had gotten his breath back sooner, and picked up a ball of clothes tied together nearby. Eyeing the steepness of the wall of rock she had just climbed, she asked, "Why were you up there, anyway?"

"I heard you. The noises are really loud from down here. At first, I thought it was an animal; then the lumins flew out."

Casey shook her head, still incredulous that he had found her. "Wow, that gets tiring."

"It's not as tiring when you've got the upper body strength for it."

"I wasn't talking about climbing down. I meant, I should be dead a few times by now, but here you are again."

"Yeah, I noticed. Look down there." They had rounded a bend in the rock and the expanse opened below. Her first impression was vague. It looked like a cloud of thick, dark dust was moving before it crashed and spattered over the rocks. It was some sort of brownish liquid, and it smelled unendurably horrible, she realized, as the wave swept a gust of wind into her face. It made her eyes water, a rotting, tangy mix of putridness. After the foul air passed over the large chamber, creating a few hollow-sounding wails as it escaped through the passages, Casey was able to follow Ivan's steps. He led her under an awning-like slab of stone, an aegis from the rotten air. They were still descending, walking toward the grotesque scene below.

"What is that?" she whispered.

"I don't know, but everything near it is dead. There are fish floating in it, birds… all kinds of dead things. I think the water's bringing them in." He pointed to a large mound, which Casey had mistaken for a boulder standing out of the turbid liquid. Looking closely, she could make out limbs and heads.

"Oh," she gasped, covering her mouth with a cut hand.

"There are some bodies along the way here, too, so watch out. If I had to guess, I'd say the ones along the edge tried to drink the water."

"Where did they come from – the ones down there, I mean?" She couldn't help but peer down to study the mound again. It was too appalling to be real!

"I don't know. Like I said, the water could have carried them in. I'm guessing it's water, but it doesn't look like it, does it?"

"No." As a sluggish wave hit the mound again, Casey turned her head and tried not to breathe when the gust blew over.

When the rush of vile stench had passed, he explained, "It travels from under the bridge near here and moves into one of two main natural conduits. This cave is the first one. The second…" his voice trailed away. The lumins around Ivan were fading, and he called more to him.

"How far is it to the outside?"

"It takes awhile, but you keep following the water. Stay as far away from it as you can, though. It will splash pretty high. I don't know if getting it on you is enough to make you like this guy," he said, as they passed a heap. Casey refused to examine it. "Still, I'd stay on the safe side."

An hour later, Casey was literally ready to drop. The excess amount of adrenaline from earlier in the evening was long forgotten, and she couldn't figure out how she could be hungry, inhaling the noxious breeze from the water beside her; but she was. She stumbled and reached out to grab at Ivan's shirt, falling against his back.

"Hey," he said, irritated, and pushed her to standing. He walked on, before turning to find she had remained in the same place. "What's the matter?"

"I don't have any energy. I think I'm hungry."

"You're just tired. It'll be daylight soon."

"How do you know that?"

He shrugged. "Because. It's been night for long enough. We're close to the outside now."

Instead, Casey sat down. "I can't. Nothing left."

"Enough with the drama." He walked back and grabbed above her elbow. "Get up, Casey."

"Ivan!"

"You can't stay here; it's right in the-," Just then a wave crashed and a spray of the repugnant liquid landed on them both.

"Oh… so… grossssss!" Casey moaned, when she was able to speak again. She looked down at her clothes, sprinkled with dark globs, then to the line of red along her forearm. It had been facing the water as Ivan had lifted her arm. "Oh, it's on my cut!" She gave a weak sob of frustration, as he dropped it like it had leprosy. 'Maybe it does,' she thought as she stood up. He was trying to wipe the spots off his face and arms with his shirt. She began to do the same.

"Where's Zource when you need it," she said, seeing that the streaks of white on her shirt were still just as bright and unstained, though the blood, dirt, and brown blots were evenly spread across the front now.

She caught up with Ivan, and they reached a break in the boulder beside them. "This is the way out." She kept him in view, zig-zagging through the passages of rock. She could see the opening; it was still dark outside, but there was a nascent haze over the sky above the scattered trees.

"Well, you're out. You can just turn around here and go up the side of the cave. It's not as intense a climb; really, it's more of a hike around-," She heard the droning sound before she realized what it was. It was too late; the dart sank into Ivan's shoulder. He pulled it out instinctively, and she knew his wide-eyed expression without actually having a clear view of his face in the misty dawn. The first thing he did was to grab her wrist and pull her back into the cave. "Hide," he said, and then he was counting. Why was he counting? He got to fifteen and fell against the wall. She wanted to yell at him, shake him, hit him back into consciousness; but he was out. His feet slid out from under him as he crumpled. For a moment, Casey just stood there, looking back toward the entrance, her mind completely blank. Then, something kicked in.

Bracing her side against the wall his head had fallen onto, she looped her arms around his shoulders. Supporting the weight of his bowed head and shoulders, she began to drag him, desperate to find somewhere to hide them both.

* * *

**A/N: So, there's your answer to what the droning thing was. Is the ISG gonna kill me?  
**

**Backroads: The previous chapter was rewritten so many times, I wasn't sure it if worked or not. Still iffy about a couple of things in it. I hope you had a better week. "It's a very emotionally helpful story." *quiet smile* It helps me emotionally, too.**

**Iliana11: Ivan's not hiding, he's seeking. I never thought about Aragorn in the mountain; and, yet, that is one of my favorite parts of the LOTR books!** "**Go Casey!** **…standing up to Ivan, who has pretty much pushed her around this entire time." Yes, he has. He's not going to be doing that at the moment, though. :/**

**Lady Thorne: "He was probably looking for a way to save himself and Casey because he's clearly in love with her." Clearly. If he doesn't kill her first. You can really see everything while you're reading? *sigh of delight* Thank you so much for telling me. I've had a tough week, and really needed that!**

**LaLa De Dum: A young Robert Redford because he's a loner... hmmmm. I have this impression that Robert Redford played kinda quiet characters. (I haven't seen many of his movies, sorry.) Ivan's not quiet. Nope, Oliver didn't know Ivan was there. What a great question!**

**Arista Everett June:** **"…bottle up all the emotion and act like he has none..." Whew! Your character reading abilities scare me sometimes.** **"…it's not the dragon chasing her? Then *what* or *who* is it?" Well, who might use darts?** **"I think Oliver is your favorite, MT. :)" Why do you think that? I'm not saying you're wrong, just… why?**

**Quiet Mindreader: You've done it: read my mind. "Are there lots of dead bodies strewn along the water ditch?" There were unpleasant 'hints' all along the path, eh? I wondered if the vine in the corridor of the story cave would need to be explained, and I don't think it will be, so here it is: Ivan had felt the draft from there. He had an inkling there might be a connection to the place he was going to explore, and thought he might come upon the vine that way. But, as he said, that was not his purpose in exploring the cave they are in now.**


	47. Zource Effect

Chapter 47 – Zource Effect

Someone was with them in the cave. She knew it because the silence wasn't convincing, though she couldn't discern what the difference was. She waited in the shallow alcove, feeling Ivan's folded body pushing her out of the pocketed recess. At any moment her feet would scrape the ground, giving way to the pressure of the weight against her; and someone would hear it. She tried to concentrate on her back muscles. They had to hold. She had to bear it.

The morning light was filtering through. A long, contorted shadow fell over the ground and wall before her. She stared forward, focusing on nothing, keeping her back taut. He came into view between two pillars of rock. He paused before the passage to the chamber with the brown water. Had he already found them? Had she left a trail dragging Ivan's body? He drew closer. She dug her nails into her palms to keep from screaming, and waited for what seemed like eons.

The sharp features of his arrow-shaped face were branded on her mind as he turned his head. Instead of an eyebrow, there was a shining, colorful symbol sunk into the skin above the eye. 'Gread!' The thought raced through her brain. There was a familiar sound that grew louder, and a blurred mass surrounded him. He began twisting and swinging his arms, backing away. He spoke to someone she couldn't see, and his hoarse voice carried. It wasn't a language she had heard before. She realized he was leaving!

When a solitary creature landed lightly on her nose, she perceived what the noise had been, what had caused the wild one to react. The dragonfly paused briefly with wings still and straight, as though time had stopped. Then it flew away.

She sat there in stillness, pressing against the attempts of Ivan's limbs to expand. Should she come out? Were they really gone? She would rather have plunged into the murky, toxic stream than to have been taken by them. Finally, the soreness created by Ivan's shoulder blade in her back decided her. She allowed herself to be pushed out before turning to bring Ivan's head gently to the ground. She lifted back his shirt collar to examine where the dart had gone in. The tattered skin surrounded a puncture larger than she had expected. She pressed her fingers to the side of his neck, searching to find his pulse, while turning her ear to his mouth. She had never been good at finding that artery during CPR class in school. She thought he was breathing lightly. Very lightly. Wasn't he? She put her head to his chest to listen, concentrating to hear or feel anything. Pursing her lips, Casey overlapped her hands, took a breath and came down on his chest with her palms. "One and two and three and four…" 'Has to be fast. Think pumping heart. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub…'

She stopped after a few sets and pressed her ear against him again to listen. She stared at his restful expression. Tears fell on the neck of his filthy, washed-out t-shirt in small droplets before soaking into the fabric.

"Why do you have to be so – so – Oh, Ivan, don't die! What do I do?" she whispered, all in one sobbing breath.

She crossed her hand over the other again, and began to pump and count furiously this time, feeling angry with him. His dormant mass shifted, and the bag of clothes at his waist fell out from under the jacket, making a slight rattling. Something glittered within the folds of cloth. Casey did a double take as she finished the set. Could it be? She moved to untie the bag quickly from the loop on his pants, undoing the knots and drawing the material away. There, among three pieces of fruit, an assortment of nuts, the bulb end of an icoto, and one dried bone, was the tan container decorated with faded symbols and the shiny clasp, which had caught her attention. Zyri's bag! Zource. Her heart beat fast. He had taken it after all! One thought alone took hold of her: It could save him.

As she lifted the bag, she saw the parcel of perfect paper beneath it, but didn't give it a thought. The clamp around the bag was just as stubborn as it had been before. She chipped the end of the bone attempting to use it as a lever to pry open the metallic piece, succeeding only in creating a small crimp in the clasp. She grumbled in annoyance, but quickly ceased as she heard the noise echo. She couldn't be sure the Gread wouldn't come back. Finally, she gave up on loosing the clasp, and began to pull at the bag, attempting to shift it out of the grip of the metallic piece gradually. She made progress slowly, setting it down once when her hands became too cramped to continue. She eyed the fruit hungrily, and grabbed one, biting into it while feeling truly awful for eating when Ivan lay comatose. She returned to work at Zyri's bag until – finally! – the edge of the bag was released from the clamp. The Zource would seep out now.

She shifted Ivan's head in the crook of her shoulder. Circling her arm around, she held his chin in her hand, squeezing his jaw to keep it from rolling. Carefully, she positioned the bag over his open mouth. The burst of light as it escaped its confines was painfully immaculate to her eyes. A steady stream fell, and she kept pouring. He wasn't responding yet, and it was overflowing from his mouth. Should she just keep pouring? When should she stop?

His hand came up and slammed into her, knocking her sideways. She grabbed the bag before it went sloshing to the ground. He was choking and gasping, trying to sit up. She couldn't tell what he was saying, but it didn't sound nice. Oh, she hadn't considered how irate he could become sometimes. Was he going to go off on her now? She held the Zource bag close and scooted away.

He quit coughing and turned to look at her. His eyes and nose were red, but he had streaks of white around his cheeks and chin. "What did you do? What is that?"

She held up the bag. "Zource."

He turned away to study the hole in his shoulder before looking back to her again. His eyebrows drew together as their eyes locked, but he said nothing. She gave a small smile and suddenly wanted to cry. She had never felt so… so grateful. He was alive.

He stood up, but he didn't look good. "Um, Ivan. I think you should…" He leaned against the wall and groaned. "You're not really well yet."

"Yeah," he said, sliding down again. He fell back to sitting and buried his head. "Wow, that's pretty strong stuff."

"It is, but you might be suffering from what that dart did. I don't think you were meant to recover from it," she caught herself and added, "like that."

"You mean, I was dead?"

"No, I think you were still breathing."

"You _think_ I was breathing?" He rubbed his jaw; she imagined it was pretty sore from the way she'd held it to pour the Zource into his mouth.

He pressed his head against the stony surface behind him, lifting his eyes upward. "Oh," he breathed. Suddenly, he closed his eyes tightly, like he was in pain.

"Are you okay?"

"Uh, I can't think right… I'm remembering things…"

"It's the Zource. It has a weird side effect. I remembered some thoughts I've had, some things I've done-"

"Um… You know what, Casey? I need you to go."

"Go where?"

"Just go, okay!" His eyes were shut tight and he covered his face with his hands.

She got up, unsure what to do. As she walked toward the larger inner chamber, she heard a gush of air escape Ivan's lips. Was he crying? Was that possible? She didn't want to go back and ask.

She returned to the path beside the brown water. There was a shallow crevice between two boulders a short way up which curved inward; and she stepped inside, hoping it would block most of the water spray. There was just enough room to stretch her legs out as she sat in one corner tucked away from the water. She wondered if Ivan was having the same feelings she had had with the Zource. It hurt. And it was real. Everything that had come into her head had been something she'd really thought about. It was like the brightness dug out all the deep, ugly parts and exposed them in a light she had never understood before. It wasn't a reality she could easily forget, though the two days since she'd experienced it hadn't found her dwelling on it as much as it could have. How could she still wish to drink the stuff when it left her feeling so worthless and… and wrong? She held the bag up and looked at it. She still wanted to taste it now. Her eyes traveled to her cut arm as it held the Zource.

What if she just used it on the outside? Would it work the same way? Gingerly, she tilted it into her palm. The moment it flowed, touching her skin, she desired to drink of it. Just a small sip. Yet, she poured it over her arm with her cupped hand instead. It seemed to know where to go, infusing the entire wound and covering the edges. It moved slowly, glistening serenely. It wasn't like water at all. A sweet scent caught her senses and she relaxed, inhaling softly. Before she knew it, she was standing, pouring more into her palm. Trickling Zource over her shoulders was like knowing warmth without any temperature change occurring at all. It seemed to sink into her skin, refreshing her, reviving her. Her shirt became saturated as it ran down. She lifted the bag to her head and poured a small amount; it rolled through her hair. She was crying again. It was too exquisitely perfect.

Her clothes were soaked, but she wasn't cold. She was astounded at how it continued to cover her when she had only used a few handfuls. She seemed to underestimate every quality about it, and felt foolish for not being more afraid of it. What might it do in large doses?

She placed the container beside her and determined not to use it anymore until she could be sure that no harm would come in the succeeding moments. Bending her legs to sit and await the results of her rash actions, she felt the bulk of Oliver's story. Had the Zource soaked it? She pulled it out quickly and flipped through the pages, crestfallen. The ink – or whatever liquid had penned the words - had not escaped unmarred. The paper, which had a pale, yellow-green tint, was now streaked in white. Where the streaks met the script, the letters were bloated, ready to lose their shape. She hurried through the sheets looking to see if the Zource had seeped through all of them. From end to beginning, the pages were streaked. She panicked. It was now or never; she had to read what she could before the blurred words were completely unreadable.

She tried to find where she had last read, skimming anxiously.

"… _your name means 'peace'," he said to me. "You will unify the clans; for you looked upon the dragon, and he did not destroy you. You know the histories carved at the foot of the mountain of pillars. 'A prince will rise up who will conquer the dragon.' You will free us; through you we will return to our realm."_

_

* * *

_

**A/N: So, yeah, Ivan couldn't die. Did you expect him to have Zyri's Zource?**

**Quiet Mindreader: Feathers at the opposite end - or the fletching - of the dart would create a slight sound as it cuts through the air. Since Casey is now attuned to the sound of thin material, such as diaphanous pixie wings, manipulating the atmosphere, she'd categorize it as a droning sound. About Ivan's counting: he knew he was going to experience some reaction, and believed by counting he could keep his focus, using each second to its fullest. It's like when one tries to do something in the fastest steps and counts aloud to 'beat the seconds'. "I'm still wondering where that second conduit leads." *grins***

**LaLa De Dum: I'll have to watch **_**Out of Africa**_**.** **"It's one of those stories that you just can't wait for the conclusion, but at the same time you really don't want it to be over!" This story? Really? Wow, that's nice. I know what's going to happen now. You can tell we're nearing end because questions are getting answered. I'm not writing on the final chapters, yet, though.  
**

**Iliana11: Theory number 1 is correct about the bridge. Yes, the water is toxic. "Ivan is pretty hardened by all of this." So true. "I don't think Oliver would use darts. He seems more like a sword or quarterstaff kind of guy to me." Lol! Pixies have their bites, so darts aren't really necessary for them. Just like you, I know people like Ivan. Hopefully, my readers will come to vicariously experience the depth of his personality in a few chapters.**

**Lady Thorne: "..you and Ivan can excuse me for assuming that he absolutely loved seeing Casey in his shirt." *rolls eyes and chuckles* Your remarks are a hoot, you know that? They did gaze into each other's eyes!**

**Backroads: Oh, all right. I won't kill Ivan… yet. :D**

**Arista Everett June: What a lovely long list of thoughts. Can a scribbler be luckier?** "…**your 'love' for (Oliver) seeps from my computer screen..." Oh dear. Am I that transparent? I was concerned about the Ivan/Casey mood to the story returning with the same vibrancy. It did for me. Ivan is attached to her, and vice versa, there's no doubt. That can be a problem, though. It does have "The Scientist" feel! (The counting was answered in QM's review response.)**


	48. Glader

**A/N: I got my days mixed up and forgot to post! Tough week. *sigh*  
**

Chapter 48 – Glader

She continued to leap over passages until she found where she'd left off.

"…_remained with the Greads, participating in their raids. They sought to create fear in the hearts of all the clans, instructing their youth to reject any pleas for mercy. They nurtured hate by teaching that every clan was the enemy and sought to dominate. They looked to me, not to bring peace, but to bring ultimate defeat, defeat of the dragon, defeat of the pixie armies._

_I resisted their beliefs in silence, but the council discerned my unwillingness and tried me relentlessly. While I considered myself unmoved, I was influenced in ways which later became manifest in my actions. When the food supply dwindled - the trial which all the clans bore in our constant circulation through the forests – the Greads had another custom. They butchered slaves as a means of sustaining the skilled hunters…"_

Casey jerked up from the page in utter disgust, her skin crawling. She skipped the rest of the paragraph, finding the streaks on the paper had left places where the letters were no longer readable.

"_Knowing there was no refuge in the S----, I journeyed northward, through Koryn's Wasteland. A Ceiahri _(Kay-uh-ree, individual of the Ceiah clan)_ learns from a young age how to go without for long spans of time. It was considered a ------ of strength that I had surpassed my brothers – all older than I – during my ------ of manhood. Little can I recall in those last days of my trek; yet my spirit was driven. I came to a mountain path which wound between chiseled rocks whose shapes depicted beast, fowl, and human. --- thought I had created the vision of them out of the wild ---------- of my deprived state; but no. Shortly after, I was met by a man fully-clad in armor, a guard of the outer city. I had found an entrance to the halls of a mountain believed to be only legend..."_

She turned the page and found another paragraph that was still intact._  
_

_"I embraced the customs in the cities of the mountain, Drakkytbet, exchanging abject savagery for intellectual refinement; one which ----- me to doubt all that I ----- as the moons passed. Moons – their counting of time. For this fortress reached up through the mists of Dreone below. The inhabitants prized that silver light and the greater golden star. A sun and moon. I knew of them only from the tales of my people; but never had I ------ the beauty of these orbs which ----- their brilliance over the mountain."_

The rest of the sheet was unreadable; and Casey's eyelids were heavy, as she began to succumb to the tiredness of the previous sleepless night. She exerted herself to read a few words which stood out farther down the next leaf of paper:

"…_It was there I was confined for my knowledge of the valley of Dreone…"_

She turned page after page, finding only phrases remaining. The chore of piecing together the thoughts in the broken sentences left her confused. She lowered the roll of sheets, ready to give in to sleep. What had Oliver wanted to tell her through his story? She began to dream of Gread-like statues and beryl, wispy clouds, fading from conscious thought.

"Casey, why are you sitting here?" She opened her eyes to find Ivan looking down at her.

"I'm- I'm reading." She stuffed the sheets promptly into her pocket, afraid that he might try to take the story from her.

"You need to get away from the water. The birds are coming in."

"Oh." She stood, catching up the Zource container, and followed him, noting the numbers of dark, large-winged birds which continued to swoop in. They huddled together, picking over the decaying pile rising from the dreggy water.

"That is sickening."

"You'd think they'd figure out that if the buddy beside them falls over dead mid-bite, it might be a good reason not to keep eating."

Casey shuddered, holding her nose and gagging. The smell was more potent since she'd exited her hiding place. Was it because of the Zource? Her eyes continued to be drawn to the movements of the scavengers. "Why would anything want to eat that, anyway?"

"I don't know, but seeing this explains a lot about the cave in the gorge."

"How?"

"Well, I was under the impression people had died because they couldn't find their way in the passages. I don't think so now. I think there may be multiple passages to here, and they came here thirsty, looking for water. Some of the weaker ones died immediately after drinking, while others lingered and wandered about the cave."

"So, where'd they find the strength, or the paper, to write their stories in the meantime?"

"Maybe it wasn't the ones in the caves that wrote them."

"Then who did?"

"I don't know! I'm just guessing here!"

"Hey, I'm not disagreeing. It sounds like a great guess to me."

"Well, it's based on something I read. It mentioned this place; I didn't put much stock in it until now." She followed him into the close cavity where she had left him to bear with the effects of the Zource.

"How come you're all clean?" he asked, as she sat down with her back to the wall.

It took her a minute, then she realized what the Zource had done, glancing down at her arms. They weren't blanched, as she had expected, but flushed with the appearance of a subtle glow about them. She smiled up at him. "Zource," she explained. He flopped down tiredly in front of her, his feet extended into the opening where she'd hidden them from the Gread.

"Did you use it all up?" he asked, motioning his head toward the bag she'd set next to her.

"There's a little bit left. Do you want it?"

"No, I don't." He eyed it with repugnance. "Hurry up and use it, will you? I thought I just needed that fastener, but the bag will help, too."

"Help what?"

"I'll show you." Ivan scooted toward the alcove and brought from it his satchel made of clothes. Loosening it, he pulled out the parcel of indestructible paper. Gingerly, he put his hand inside and pulled out a bricolage of glader's tongues held together with yellowed rubber. It was difficult to comprehend what it was until she studied it. Then the pattern of folded tongues, layered against each other and fanning out, became apparent. The conglomeration was a sort of dagger; and, because it had so many razor-sharp edges, it looked to be very dangerous.

Casey's eyes traveled to Ivan's face; the pride in his invention was apparent. "That looks scary."

"Yeah," he responded happily. "See, I have to hold it carefully along the tree sap. That's not going to work."

"Oh, you said you needed to find a handle."

"I found it." From the bag, he lifted out the bone. Casey had recognized it when she'd used it earlier. It had come from the haunch of meat Ivan had eaten which the pixies had given her for supper days ago. "It's the perfect length. The difficulty is attaching this to the tongues. I thought I might be able to use the fastener from the bag-"

"How did you find out about the Zource bag?"

"I came by today – well, yesterday – to get my shirt back, but you were already gone. So, I just took the bag."

"You just took it?"

"Yeah… What was I supposed to do, ask your permission? You weren't there."

"It isn't mine!"

Ivan paused and looked down at the bag beside her. "That didn't keep you from using it, did it?"

Casey stopped and pondered this. "No, I guess not."

Impulsively, he reached over and ran his hand lightly across her arm. She pulled away. "What was that for?"

He shrugged. "You look so strange. I just wanted to see if it felt different."

Rubbing her own forearm unconsciously, she replied, "It doesn't. I mean, it feels clean, but it's still my skin." He looked as if he wasn't convinced. "What are you going to do with the Zource container?"

"Well, if the bone isn't protected, the glader tongues will cut through it; and, I found out, when I was trying to cut around the fastener, that the tongues can't cut through whatever the bag's made of. Interesting, eh?" His eyes were alight with his discovery. "So, if I wrap the top of the bone with the bag and fasten the bone to the tongues that way, I think it will work."

"So, supposing you finish your glader-tongue-thingy-,"

"It's easier just to call it, 'Glader'," he told her, gazing on it lovingly.

"Okay. So, it's all fixed and ready... Then what?"

He leaned toward her and whispered. "Then Glader meets Kapyn."

* * *

**A/N: So, now you know Ivan's reason for taking the Zource. What do you think about his distrust in Casey's appearance?**

**Backroads: "****So you're saying Ivan is still not out of the death running?" ****Who isn't out of the death running? Oliver's story tidbit: I hope you noticed she hadn't found the place she'd read last, meaning she was reading a portion that happened before the Greads took him. Just wanted to show what he was told by the Ceiah.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Gread warrior's symbol: It doesn't look like anything I have seen before, I don't think. Why? Ivan had a stack of the perfect paper, along with the pocket of it containing Glader, in the niche in the story cave. The paper pocket acts as a ****sheath****. The effect of the Zource had Ivan hurting, like Casey experienced. The Zource depicts a life-giving element which merely influences on the inductive level. Its recipients can't automatically know or understand what it is.**

**Lady Thorne: "****soon they shall realize their impending love which will blossom forth into a bloom of happiness" Very poetic! So, that's the kind of reaction you think Ivan will have to growing close to Casey. Hm. Did Oliver's story give you more to think about?**

**Iliana11: "...do the Greads drink the toxic water?" No. More about how they view the toxic water will come later.** **Zource: "I could feel some symbolism and it made me happy!" :D I tried to explain the symbolism in response to QM's review. Btw, being infatuated with one of my characters generally has nothing to do with the outcome of my story. About the prophecy: "Casey has faced the dragon and not been destroyed." True. So, is she meant to conquer the dragon? Has there been more than one who has faced the dragon and not been destroyed? Ah, the prophecy begins to lose its specificity. ;)  
**

**Arista Everett June: 1) Their relationship scares me. Your thoughts about Ivan are so hilarious! 4) I honestly never thought about all the correlations. When I was writing the dragonfly prince's story, he told Casey his name was Oliver. It was just right, so I wrote it and went on. Didn't look it up until later. "Ivan rules" He thinks so. :P**


	49. The Art of the Apology

Chapter 49 – The Art of the Apology

"Ah, you're still on the 'kill the dragon' idea," responded Casey. "And that is supposed to stab him through to the heart? I think it's a bit short."

"Not to the heart. All it has to do is go about twenty-five centimeters straight into an indentation at the back of his head."

"How did you figure that out, and how are you going to approach him from the back of his head since his body's attached there?"

"One question at a time, alright? First, I found it in the story about the dragons."

"What story?"

"The one you were reading that time you cut your wrist. You know, before you fed Kapyn the first time."

"Oh, you mean the time you tricked me into believing I was going to go through the portal, but really I was just the distraction? Yes, I remember that well."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?"

"Maybe, if you apologized nicely."

His brow furrowed. "I thought I already did."

"When? When did you apologize?"

"Well, I didn't exactly say it, but I think it was pretty obvious what I meant."

She crossed her arms. "You so need practice in the art of the apology, but… whatever." She sighed. "I'm not going to fight. I'm too tired. I don't know about you, but I'm going to pass out from lack of sleep."

"Before you do, let me finish telling you my plan."

"Oh, yeah. Hurry, will you?" she yawned.

"It is simple to approach Kapyn from the back. All it requires is another entrance into the lair, and to attack while he's sleeping."

"Oh, that's so simple, Ivan! That's so simple, it's lunacy!" She stared at him with her droopy eyes, and would have laughed if his expression hadn't shown he wasn't joking. Instead, she searched his face to find a speck of sense staring back at her. "You know it won't work."

"It will work because it has to work. There is a better chance of that than trying to get around him when the portal is open."

"I agree with you that you won't get past him when the portal is open, but that doesn't make your plan more feasible. And, anyway, how can you be so sure what that story told you was true?"

"I'm beginning to think there is something to some of these stories." He pulled out a sheet from the pocket at his thigh and unfolded it. "This one told me about this place, and talks about a series of channels that leads to a water source in Kapyn's mountain. You know about that water, Casey! We've seen it."

Casey's glance was cursory, but something about the script was familiar. She took a better look. "Hey, that's-," She pulled the sheets from her pocket, selecting one from the front of the story which still had an abundance of words on it, and compared them. "It's the same writing, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I pulled it out of that roll. I didn't want to carry the whole thing when all I needed was this."

"Ivan, this is Oliver's story!"

He sighed in forbearance, giving her a look of reproach. Slowly, his face cleared. "You're saying your dragonfly prince wrote this."

"Yes."

He pondered it, and began to nod. "Okay. It would make sense that he'd know to tell you about the passages from the cave to here, then."

"Yes, exactly! He's real, Ivan. I've talked to him for two nights now. Have you read it all?" she asked hopefully, speaking of Oliver's story.

"I've read it." Ivan's expression became guarded.

"I know that look," she told him. "What is it?"

"Well, you know how when people go through hard things, it can affect them?"

Casey looked at him skeptically. "Go on."

"I mean, they don't always see things clearly."

"What are you getting at?"

"Casey, he's the 'my gnosis' story."

The corners of her mouth dropped. "What?"

Ivan nodded. "I told you about the red stone. He was looking for that."

"Well, maybe he's not looking for it anymore."

"Maybe not… maybe not." He was trying to appease her now. The news had come as a shock. The little voice asking whether Oliver was crazy just couldn't be silenced.

"Oh, Ivan, he can't be crazy. He just can't. He acts too _not_ crazy!"

"Those are the worst kind."

She gave him a wry look. "Like you know the types of crazy."

"Well, you know what they say: The ones who think they're going crazy are probably okay; it's the ones who think they're sane that-,"

"Oh, stop it. Let's – let's talk about something else. How are you going to find this back way into Kapyn's lair?"

"According to the description in that gnosis story, the water leads two places. This is the one where the 'debris' washes up. So, it has to be the second one." Ivan was grinning, which drew attention to the Zource streaks around his mouth and chin. "My itinerary now is to finish Glader, take a nap, and wait until dusk to follow that second channel."

"Why dusk?"

"Because I'm not going out there in broad daylight to be target practice for whoever's waiting outside."

"The Greads."

"What?"

"Oliver wrote about them, remember? The Greads are a clan from over the gorge. They have some kind of funny-looking mark over the eye. I think they're the reason Oliver told me to hide."

"Did you see them?"

"I saw one; he came looking for us."

"And he didn't find us? Wow. Good hiding, Casey."

"No, it was Oliver. He rescued us."

"Well, he's just a veritable superman, isn't he?"

Casey pursed her lips in annoyance. "He sent the dragonflies, dummy. One landed on my nose." She inhaled quickly, ready to tell him what she knew about the dragonflies' love of mind rhythms; then hesitated.

"What?" he asked, aware she had been planning to say more.

"Never mind. That's enough."

"So, the dragonfly prince sent the dragonflies, and we were saved."

"Basically."

"You forgot the part where you poured Zource down my throat because I was a goner." Casey looked at him. His tone was serious. He opened his mouth, and she could see he was trying out every word he wanted to say and rethinking it.

"I'm glad it worked."

"Me, too."

"And you're welcome. It's kinda nice being the one to save you for a change, but I didn't do it in place of an apology, like you."

"Your humility is awe-inspiring. So is your gratitude. If I recall correctly, you've found the instances where I've saved your life 'tiring'."

She looked down and sheepishly replied. "Yeah, that wasn't very nice of me. So, I'll say it first: Thank you, Ivan. Thank you for saving my life more than once. Now your turn." She said with a twinkle in her eye.

He shook his head at her cheeky attempt. "You know, in retrospect, maybe it wasn't much of a favor to either of us. But… thanks, Ethel."

* * *

**A/N: Shall we end it here? Ivan and Casey are getting along… no life-threatening cliffhanger… Is it satisfying enough to leave it at that? *evil grin***

**Backroads: The next two chapters will touch on Ivan's view of Casey's appearance more. He's always plotting the same idea, and for good reason. Almost a whole year trying to get around Kapyn might bring upon one some desperation to do something drastic. Plus, after his laborious task of piecing that weapon together, it would have to be put to good use somehow, you know? Thanks for sticking with this and reviewing steadily. It means a bunch to a scribbler like me!**

**Iliana11: (Prophecies) "****They're always so cryptic, giving multiple outcomes." Yeah. Outside of fiction, it's a common practice to word a so-called prophecy to leave room for coincidence or the inevitable to confirm it. In the Bible, Moses wrote, **_"when a prophet speaks in the name of the LORD, if the word does not come to pass or come true, that is a word that the LORD has not spoken; the prophet has spoken it presumptuously. You need not be afraid of him._" **- Deuteronomy 18:22. So, if a prophet gave one prophecy that didn't occur, he wouldn't be expected to keep much of a following in Old Testament times. Using this criterion, how many would that leave of those who claim to tell the future today? Your thoughts on my preference towards Oliver are provoking. I want to respond, but won't. You clever info-wheedler! :D**

**Lady Thorne: (Oliver's story) I tried to remove certain words, while still leaving enough to convey the idea. He surpassed other competitors in food-deprivation. This was during his rite of manhood, and he was the youngest participator. Since he doesn't actually know how old he is, I've had a hard time finding ways to express his age. I'm just going to tell you, he was around 14 when he gained manhood in his clan. (Ooo, extra info for **_**you**_**!)**

**Quiet Mindreader: Thanks for the geography questions! I need to rework the descriptions. The page Casey reads before she finds Oliver's story in the cave (chapter 40) has changed to reflect this vaguely: **…_Furthermore, no connection is ever given between the dragons and the Iothun, allowing the account of the destruction of Mount Dreohan to be a figurative one rather than a realized, authentic event. For, it is improbable that a mountain ever existed which comprised the present day northern and southern pinnacles as the foundational frame of its great height; or, that a valley of such depth and circumference, cushioned between the two ranges, could have been fashioned out without razing the entire outer flanking of a mountain so massive._ **While Casey doesn't know it at the time, this is talking about Dreone (the valley) and the surrounding mountain ranges. Oliver told her about the southern peak in chapter 38. Drakkytbet is the northern mountain, which Oliver describes as "what remains of the great mountain." Drakkytbet is substantially larger in diameter than the mountain in the south, but it is, itself, hollowed out, rising far above Dreone. This is wordy, but does it help?**


	50. Playing Hero

Chapter 50 – Playing Hero

She watched him stow Glader back into the paper sheath, and a slow smile spread across Casey's features. "I feel sort of peaceful right now. I don't want to move." She closed her eyes tiredly.

"Don't think I didn't notice you ate some of my food," he commented a moment later, sorting through his supplies and shoving various items into his pockets.

"I told you I was hungry." Her voice was groggy.

He took a bite out of the oval-shaped fruit in his hand after asking, "Do you want to use the rest of the Zource or can I pour it out?"

Casey's eyes fluttered open. "Don't pour it out! That's such a waste. You know, Zyri's in trouble for the bag going missing. The pixies have been looking for you." She told him all that Zbori had said.

"It sounds to me like the sooner I get rid of it, the better, then," he observed, tossing the inedible pieces of his repast over his shoulder to consume the remaining portion.

"Well, you could do with a good Zource wash," she observed.

"You forget, I'm going to be paying Kapyn a little visit. I don't want to smell like fresh Ivan."

Casey giggled lazily. "Fresh Ivan. Funny."

"Go to sleep. You're getting giddy."

"Giddy," she repeated, still giggling as she closed her eyes again.

She felt his hand reach for the bag, and she tightened her grip around it. "No. Don't pour it out."

"Your options are to use it now or I'm getting rid of it." His hand was over hers, but he didn't try to take the container away. She began to pull the bag toward her, her eyes closed.

"Don't," she pouted.

"I've got to have the bag. What are you…?" She opened her eyes, hearing the tone in his voice change.

"Casey, I need the bag." He spoke it firmly, but there was bewilderment written across his face.

"No." She held onto the container, but knew she wasn't doing it solely to save the Zource. Without understanding why, she didn't want him to leave.

He pulled his hand away and scanned her face quizzically. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you?"

"I asked you first."

Casey couldn't meet his eyes. "You're acting differently, and it's making me act differently."

"You look different. You're like… like a kid, all washed up like that. I know you're you, and you're going to annoy me, but it's like you're different," he finished lamely.

"Well, thanks, I think."

"I don't think it has anything to do with you, though. I think it's because of that Zource. You're completely… young - innocent. It's hard to explain."

"Innocent?" Casey scoffed. "You know, I thought about killing you once. You really do make me mad, Ivan-,"

"That feeling is mutual, I assure you."

"-but, after drinking the Zource, I just didn't like how it felt knowing I'd thought that; and I don't want to feel that way again."

"Yeah. I thought about killing you a bit-,"

"A bit?"

"Yeah, I thought about trying to wrap you up in dead rodents that first morning to see if Thon might eat you. It was kinda funny at the time. But that wasn't one of the things that came to me when - when the Zource hit. Guess I wasn't really serious about that."

"What were you really serious about?"

"I'm not telling _you_," he replied defensively.

"Why not?"

"Look, I'm not saying you didn't feel the same way when you drank the Zource, but it doesn't seem to have affected you as much. I mean, the fact that you still want to keep it… Well, I can't imagine touching the stuff, much less washing with it. I only hope it's not harmful. Looking at you, though," he raised his eyebrows as though he was surprised, "it doesn't seem to have done anything detrimental."

She hesitated before admitting, "Part of me wants to drink the rest of it, even if it does show me what I don't want to know."

On hearing this, Ivan's expression changed sharply. "You're too naïve, I think that's why. That's the difference between us. You've had a few thoughts you're ashamed of, and you think everyone is like you. You have no idea what's in other people's heads or what they've been through."

"But I want to understand."

"No, you don't. Trust me."

"You make it sound like I'm stupid or something."

"Well, in a way, you are. You haven't learned to guard yourself. That's what I meant when I said you're naïve. It would be easy for someone to mess with you. It's a good thing I'm here."

"Why? Because you'll protect me?" She laughed derisively; her feelings were hurt by his impressions of her. His words had hit too close to home.

"Yeah, I will."

"I thought we were quits."

"We were, but now-,"

"Now that you know it's the yucky water that kills people, and Oliver is real – you see I'm not crazy – you want to play hero again? Thanks, but I'm going with Oliver when he comes for me." Casey crossed her arms. "You don't believe what anyone tells you anyway - even me - because you're such a tough guy, experienced in life and everything. So, there's no use telling you there's a better way to get home." The last sentence was spoken with all the condescension she could muster. It felt good to flaunt that she knew something he didn't know.

Fear briefly touched Ivan's features before his brows met in a cold scowl. "Let me guess, Oliver has a way for you to get home again."

"As a matter of fact-,"

"Awwww!" He leaned back, pushing his hair away from his forehead in disbelief. "Casey, he's playing you!"

"You always think that. You're wrong. You have to be swarmed by the dragonflies to go back, and they return you to the place you were taken from; and-,"

"I can't believe this!" He stared at her, flummoxed, before grabbing her shoulders in a sobering mien. "Casey. Casey! He's lying to you." She knew he could read the implacable determination in her face because he changed his tune. "Okay, okay. Suppose he's telling the truth -,"

She removed his hands from her shoulders as she added, "Which he is."

"What does he get out of sending you back?"

"Does he have to get anything out of it? Not everyone thinks like you."

"Hey! I've helped you lots of times without getting anything out of it!"

"Not willingly. Not nicely. You _know_ you're hard to get along with."

He shook his head. "You know what? I give up. You just go be hookwinked by some weird guy who hangs out with dragonflies. He's obviously normal and trustworthy. Because it makes way more sense than listening to a guy who's hard to get along with. – NO! No, Casey. I'm telling you, you can't do this. I won't let you." He was holding her shoulders again.

She pushed his hands away and stood up. "You are always trying to control me. That's what it is, Ivan. A few minutes ago, you were being halfway pleasant. Now you're doing it again. Stop trying to make me do what you want. I'm not your puppet."

"I'm fully aware of that. I don't want you to be my puppet. I want you to be smart! I want you to have a little street savvy, and save yourself from what's going to happen to you if you listen to this guy."

"What's going to happen?" she asked, straightforwardly. "Tell me, Ivan. You know everything."

His eyes took on a dangerous glint as they looked straight into hers. "There are a million and one things that could happen. You could figure that out on your own; but since you want to play dumb, let's just see what you're afraid of."

His hand struck her against the upper arm, pushing her to the wall, his forearm acting as a brace across her collar bone. He shoved her chin up with his hand, and drew his face up to hers. But for a slight curl of his lip, there was no emotion by which she could gauge his rough actions.

Casey didn't move. Her heart felt like it had stopped, while her head hadn't had time to register what he was doing. She tried to turn away and resist him, as he shoved his face centimeters from hers; his grip was like iron. The constant sting of his elbow in her shoulder and the throbbing in the back of her head told her he was hurting her. She felt powerless in those seconds. Should she scream? Would Oliver come? Would the Greads hear it? Who would help her?

His grey eyes were lit up fiercely, watching her face intently. He spoke in a low voice. "Don't you dare yell for help."

* * *

**A/N: And, the friendship fades…**

**Backroads: For lack of a better way to put it, she has this glowingly cherubic look about her. That's why Ivan comments that she looks 'innocent' and 'like a kid.' It affects him to react to her more considerately; then, when she refuses to respond docilely to his guidance, he's ready to teach her a thing or two. Is he jealous or faithless? Prolly both. Now he's dangerous. :o{**

**Lady Thorne: He called her Ethel again because it was impossible for him to acknowledge gratitude without teasing her with the old nickname. Ivan told of the gnosis story in Chapter 22. Wow, that was a long time ago, wasn't it? Look how far we've come. I think I'm ready to gather with you guys around a camp fire and sway to a moving rendition of some togetherness song. I can't think of a good one…  
**

**Iliana11: "He's really quite lovable, but in a prickly sort of way." Lol. Huggable as a porcupine. "One thing that I've learned is that there is a huge difference between prophecy and fortune-telling…****" I should have mentioned, "prophecy" in the Bible does not always mean the future is being told; it just means a message which is not of man's making. Fortune-telling is unreliable; so, it's obvious it can't be from God. For someone to foretell the future in specific detail with absolute accuracy, it requires a power above the temporal sphere. Who resides outside of time? The great I AM.**** You have my mind ticking. Love that.  
**

**Quiet Mindreader: You are going to hunt me down to bribe me with éclair pie, ice cream, and chocolate? I don't know whether to hide or throw a party. You know I love writing this, though. Dreohan was the name of the larger mountain. I have not told the name of the southern peak yet. You have the rest of the geographic locations right.** **"I wonder...does that red stone by any chance emit an azure glow?" :D No. It does glow, though. There will be more about the blue stone in a few chapters.**


	51. Dead Men

**A/N: Thanks to each of you who has added Dfly P to your favorites list! Whether you're silently enthralled (yes, the reaction to the story is keeping me very humble –lol) or reviewing with your thoughts and theories, I want you to know:**

**It thrills this scribbler immensely!**

**Now, where were we? Ah, yes. Ivan just threatened…**

"Don't you dare yell for help."

* * *

Chapter 51 – Dead Men

She tried to gulp against his hand, tightly locked on her neck. Her brain continued to scramble for a means of escape, trying to avoid his fixed stare. In a hoarse whisper, she uttered the first idea that came to her: "Think about Deanna much?"

His expression didn't change. "Yeah, I think about her all the time. And that wouldn't save you, little girl." He let go of her, picking up the bone and the pouch housing Glader. "And I want my shirt back."

"As soon as I can go back for my shirt…"

"No. You can pick one of these." He pointed to the mud-crusted clothes on the floor as he reached for the Zource container. "I want my shirt before I leave tonight."

"At least let me use the rest of the Zource to clean another shirt," she said. She felt humiliated, but tried to act unmoved by what he had done.

He handed her the Zource container; and, as she tried to take it, he held on. "I wasn't going to do anything. I was trying to show you-,"

"That you are stronger than I am."

"No, Casey! I mean, I am – that's not it. Look. What could you have done? Nothing."

"You don't have any right to threaten me." She was on the verge of tears, but blinked them back. He would not see her cry; she would not show how he'd made her feel.

"Really? What are you gonna do? Call the police? Am I going to go to prison? There's no law here that gives you any rights. You have no protection. Neither of us do; but I'm not a naïve little fifteen-year-old, batting my eyelashes and listening to someone who calls himself the dragonfly prince tell me he's going to help me go home."

The emotions inside of her were raw and churning. He had betrayed her trust again in a way which had crushed her inwardly. The pain of it was profound. She wanted to hurt him back. "I'd believe Oliver over you anytime."

"You'd believe a Gread if he handed you an apple and smiled."

As her eyes narrowed, Casey shook her head. Bitterly, she said, "I wish I could-," She stopped to swallow the lump in her throat. He was so hateful and belittling.

"You wish you could what? Kill me? Poor Ethel. You already told me that. Drink your Zource and stop being so predictable." He turned to go, but whirled around again. "And you're not going anywhere with Oliver." Casey looked up at him quickly.

"You can't-,"

"If he comes for you, Casey, he's a dead man." His words seemed to reverberate in her head as he disappeared around the corner.

"You can't tell me what to do. It'd be different if I had Glader," she murmured, her back to the opening as she sorted through the clothes. Lifting a shirt, she gave a half-sigh of distaste. There were spots of stiff mud and holes all over it. She threw it from her in disgust and turned to grab the Zource. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ivan's figure behind her, his shoulder leaning against a pillar of rock. Her heart dropped in trepidation, wondering what he would do next. It suddenly occurred to her that she was subject to his whim; he was determined to force her to surrender to his way of thinking.

She tried to keep her voice from shaking as she spoke. "You're not going to tell me what to do." He was staring at something in his hand. She followed his gaze. It was Glader. Her heart stopped, and she felt as if her legs would have given out if she had not been sitting on the floor. He was going to kill her, wasn't he?

"You really think you'd have the guts?" She understood then that he had overheard her muttered threat.

"Ivan, I – I didn't mean it-"

"Either it's me or it's Oliver. If you think Oliver's the one who's telling you the truth, then you'll have to get through me. I'm not letting you go with him." He held the weapon toward her. "Take it."

Her first instinct was to beg him to stop. She couldn't understand why he was so volatile. "I told you, Ivan, Oliver is not dangerous. If he was going to do something, he would have done it." She stood and took the few steps toward him. "I didn't mean it about your Glader."

"Take it, Casey. You won't get another chance."

Without knowing why, she reached for the razor-like weapon he held out to her.

"Hold it here or it will slice through your fingers," he directed. Lifting it, she stared at it briefly before looking at him. "If you kill me, you're free to go. Otherwise, you're going where I tell you to and you're doing what I tell you to do."

"Why, Ivan? Why are you being like this? What if you're wrong about Oliver?"

"I'm not wrong, Casey. He's going to use you, but he can't as long as I'm here. So, either you're going to be the bait for this guy or you'll have to aim Glader right at my neck and stab."

"Why are you telling me how to kill you?"

"I know you won't do it, but I'd almost be proud of you if you did."

"No you wouldn't. You'd be dead. Dead men aren't proud."

"True. They also aren't dangerous. That's the point. Who's the danger to you, Casey? Me or the dragonfly freak?

"He's not a freak. You're the freak. You always think everyone's lying. You tell me I'm crazy, but you're the one who's all messed up in the head. Look! You're willing to risk that I won't do it." She held the weapon up to his throat and began to twist it in midair. He watched it carefully. His arms, which were raised at his sides, twitched inward; but he remained still and waited. "You think you know me so well. So, who's going to stop me? When I go home, nobody's going to know what I did. As far as your family's concerned, you're already dead."

"That's right, Casey. No one's gonna know what happens here. We are entirely on our own, living by our own rules."

"No. Not 'our' rules. I'm not living by your rules."

"Oh, yes you are." He grabbed her wrist and tilted the weapon toward her heart. "I can make you." She struggled to turn the sharp glader tongues away, but he merely met her resistance, causing her to stumble backward.

"I really want to kill you," she spoke in a rush of breath as he steered her into a corner.

"I know. So do it." With measured control, he loosened his grip on her hand.

"I just have to make one jab. It's really sharp; it's not going to take much." He lifted his gaze from the knife and looked at her.

"You're crying."

"Shut-up!" She let out a howl of fury, reared back and drove it into the wall beside his head.

"NO!" He went for her arm, but the tongues sliced into the stone. Her fist hit the rock harder and sooner than she had expected. She let go. Her knuckles were scraped, and she knew they were bruised.

"Look what you-," Ivan grabbed his head in his anguish. "I should've known! What am I going to use for Kapyn now?" He reached around and clutched her neck with both hands, shaking her vehemently.

She dug her nails into his fingers. "Stop ih-uh-ih-uht!"

He let her go abruptly and she fell against the wall. Rubbing her neck, Casey watched him try to dislodge his treasured weapon from the rock. It only resisted briefly. "Look at it!" he exclaimed, holding it gingerly. The tongues were mangled on the tip and edges. "Give me that bag!" He snatched up the Zource container before Casey could stop him. She considered fighting him for it, but didn't. It wasn't worth it. She would rather wear a filthy, torn-up shirt than deal with repeating whatever had just happened.

Bringing her weary body to the floor, she grabbed at one of the shirts and crawled into the alcove where she had hidden from the Gread. She laid her head against the jutting rocks on the ground. The floor was knotted and uncomfortable, but the darkness was what she sought. Casey curled her head tightly to her chest and allowed the waves of pity to draw her under. If he had just given her a challenge that hadn't been so extreme! She hated herself, hated everything inside of her. It went completely against everything she was to kill someone, especially someone who had saved her life. She hadn't really wanted to kill Ivan at all, but wished she'd never known him. It seemed like a punishment that he had saved her. The thought of being trapped there with him was unbearable. She wanted to run away. Now! She sat up, wringing the dirty t-shirt in her hand. Yet, in her pitiable state she found no courage to go. Even if she escaped, she couldn't risk being spotted by the Greads.

She was too tired to sleep, too full of fear of what Ivan might try next; and she was so angry, coupled by a need to vent that verged on the hysterical. Her mind galloped at a dizzying pace, striking against the walls of her limitations, looking for a way to react and find peace again. Every scenario she played out in her head seemed to lead from bad to worse. Again and again she saw Ivan's face in her mind's eye as he had pushed her chin in his hand. His eyes had always held a certain aloofness, as though he refused to allow his thoughts to dwell on what he would do next. Yet, this one time, he'd stared straight at her. He had been watching for her fear; he had hoped to find it there. Had she really believed there could be anything good in him? Oh, she _was_ stupid and naïve.

Oliver knew that, too. He had alluded to the immaturity of her mind; that she hadn't grown up enough for her thought rhythms to form the impasses that mature minds had developed. How she longed to find a way to prove to Ivan he was wrong!

She slid the large shirt over her head and replaced it with the old one. Its gritty surface chafed against her skin. For a split-second she reconsidered giving up Ivan's white shirt, but balled up the material and tossed it away from her. She huddled in the darkness, nursing her injured fist, and moving to keep her legs out of the path of daylight. Her lids felt puffy and she shut them, experiencing a burning relief. Her back and arms sagged, feeling a mental weight rather than a physical one. Whether Oliver was good or bad, she wanted to go with him. She'd rather believe the lie that she was going home, if it was a lie.

She finally fell asleep, wrapped up in her own morbid wrangling. When she awoke, it was still day. She yawned and crept out of her cubby timidly. Her nerves were still tattered; she could tell by the way she reacted on seeing Ivan's shirt on the floor of the cave. She picked it up. He hadn't come back for it. Her eyes traveled out of the recess, and she saw the knee of his pants on the ground just beyond the opening. He was keeping watch. For a moment, she considered scurrying back into her hole in the wall; but, then she lightly tiptoed toward him. He was sprawled out, his body bent to afford the best resting place. His position didn't look comfortable; his head was hung over as he snored quietly. Keeping her distance, she studied one of Ivan's loose fists; it was oddly clean with nails smooth and white. What had he been up to?

His head fell forward too quickly and jerked upwards. As it came back to rest against the stone, his breathing changed and he relaxed again into open slumber. She stared at his expression, wanting to find the cruelty there that deserved her hatred. His face was softened in repose. How could this be the same guy who had given her Glader to kill him? She wanted to wake him, to ask him to think his actions through. Yet, he was Ivan; being distrustful was just his way. Whether he thought he was helping her, or just trying to scare her into doing what he wanted, he was still completely unendurably controlling.

She had to get away from him! She had to leave the cave.

Without knowing why, she dropped his shirt before stepping cautiously over his leg to leave the small chamber. The doubts about whether she could set out on her own were many, but she had to take her chance. Just as she reached the shallow passage of pillars leading toward the outside, the light shifted in front of her. She halted, cautiously taking in the silhouette which came into view.

She recognized the figure instantly. Though the gentle light scattering through the cloud-cover behind him made it impossible to view his expression, she knew his quick eyes were searching hers. He was clothed the way he had been when she'd first met him.

Oliver had come for her. He had kept his word.

* * *

**A/N: So… If you were in Casey's shoes, how would you feel about Ivan?**

**Backroads: "Big 50! Congratulations!" Wow, I didn't think about it. Thanks! *backs away as screaming commences* Okay, okay, calm down. I was only trying to write a story here, and this is what I was warning you about. This is Ivan in all his rattle-headed glory.** **"Is he affected by something?" Yes, he's affected by his own life experiences, and doesn't want Casey to be hurt by what he believes is a threat to her. So, he hurts her emotionally, thinking he's helping, when he's really taking out his own feelings of inadequacy on her… or something like that.**

**Iliana11: *plugs ears as screaming commences yet again* "Apparently Ivan finds it necessary to threaten her. Meanie head!" Ah, you seem to understand him, even if you don't agree with him. It's a tough pill to swallow to know the portion of this story that has been such a challenge to write will receive the least positive feedback. Yet, I shouldn't look at it that way. The reaction is proof it was written well enough to get the characters across. Right? *sniffle***

**Lady Thorne: "Well Ivan's a weirdo now isn'te he." xD! Whatever he is, he's been so for awhile.**

**Hazelcloud! *waves to you maniacally* "Its nice for Casey since Ivan and Oliver seem to be mostly opposites." One of the biggest differences is in the way they treat Casey.** "**She's so straight forward all of the time, she doesn't even lie much." Yep. Oliver cherishes that; Ivan can't understand it. Oh, my friend, you might be on to some things! So happy to know you're still reading!**

**EstrangeloEdessa: Yay! You made it to chapter 50! "Casey seems a whole lot like a damsel in distress to me." Ivan made it clear he was boss from day one. She tried him a couple of times, but couldn't succeed in 'dethroning' him. She was smart enough to accept that and cater to his ego, though it was constantly vexing for her. It proved beneficial. I mean, he saved her life again. With Oliver, she has never felt the antagonism she and Ivan feel for each other; so, she welcomes Oliver's guidance. So, what kind of muffin does this chapter get? :D**

**Quiet Mindreader: "…I think maybe he is just trying to scare some sense into her…" You're right. Yet, he's pushing her away, pushing her toward the prince. And the question remains: is he right about Oliver? The rough drafts had Casey wondering if he was going to kiss her. There's that love/hate ambiguity between the lines. Even if the thought flitted through his head, he wouldn't act on it. Ivan's still ruled by his savior mentality. He is frustrated that she is so 'gullible' – easily led by the Dfly P - while he doesn't receive that same blind trust from her.**


	52. What Never Varies

Chapter 52 – What Never Varies

Her eyes sparkled in welcome as she followed him, stepping quietly into the light outside of the cave. She didn't dare speak a word for fear it would wake Ivan. A few steps from the opening, she turned to whisper to him, "I'm so glad you-" He swiftly touched her mouth with his fingertips, a sign to her not to talk, and shifted the robe to cover them both. There was more than one reason to keep silence, she gathered. She was pretty certain the reason lay with the appearance of the Greads on that side of the gorge.

Oliver didn't climb the sloping side of the cave, as Ivan had instructed her to do. He was walking the perimeter, keeping to the jutting wall of boulders and shielding her as they hurried around the crags. Casey let him lead her, hopeful that her questions about where they were going, and why the Greads were there, would be answered. She heard an influx of water in the distance and peered around the material at her face. They were heading toward a tunnel wherein a steady stream flowed. The water wasn't brown, and raced through quickly. Just as they reached it, Oliver steered her around the side of a boulder and into a narrow corridor. It reminded her of walking beside the brown water. Was this the second channel, the one that led to Kapyn's cave?

"They've already searched this area." His voice was quiet as he pulled the cloak away from her shoulder.

"You mean the Greads?" she whispered.

"Yes," he looked down at her as she pulled away to speak. "I didn't expect them to enter the cave where I sent you to hide. To them, the Death Cove is evil. They would not have come there if they hadn't seen or heard something to attract them."

"Yeah, I understand why they'd want to stay away. It's pretty awful." As she was speaking, he brought forth a dark container which she mistook for a small gourd.

"What's that?"

"Water. Drink." Casey spent very little time in deciding whether to consume what was in the strange flask. She was very thirsty. Yet, even as she gulped, her mind wandered to the Zource, wishing she had not given up her opportunity to swallow its clear, reviving liquid. When she had quenched her thirst, she added, "And 'Death Cove' is apropos. I would have been a goner if not for Ivan." She explained what had happened on her way from the first cave to the chamber with the brown water, speaking quietly all the while.

"You followed the longest passage. I wish there had been time to give you more direction." There was genuine concern in his voice. He studied her as he said, "Ivan, your friend; thoughts of him must trouble you." Casey was silent as she returned the flask.

"How did you know-?" she finally asked, wondering how much Oliver had overheard.

"I could hear his mind's rhythm through the dragonfly I sent to find you. The substance on the dart is meant to tranquilize those the clan pursues. They have an antidote to awaken the captives they wish to keep alive; otherwise, the heart slows until it stops. Would it comfort you to know his death was not painful?"

"Oh, he didn't die." Casey recounted how she had found the Zource and administered it.

"You mean, you revived him?" Oliver's eyebrows were raised. "Was he grateful for your interference?"

Casey's expression was blank. "Yes, I suppose he was. Why do you ask that?"

He stared forward through the dim hall, lit by a few thin rays from the entrance. "If Ivan's purpose was to live, he would not have stayed here for so long. He would have crossed the waters long ago to go with the others like him."

"He wants to go home, like me."

"Most want to go back, Casey. Yet, they soon learn the impossibility of escape." He began to walk again.

Casey donned a look of chagrin as she followed, and spoke almost to herself. "Ivan's pretty bull-headed."

"Sometimes it is best to accept what repeatedly never varies." He answered, turning his head to her.

Casey quickened her pace. "Ivan would rather confront Kapyn than admit he can't go home. And – I used to want to believe he could do it."

"Do you think he will succeed by force?"

"I want him to."

"But, that is your heart speaking." Oliver drew the glimmering robe around her again with a gesture toward a smaller passage. There was no light as they entered. Yet, without a giving a single command, the lumins came. The light-giving insects didn't congregate around their heads, but flew in concentric rings, orbiting both of them.

Casey was too busy considering what to tell Oliver to wonder aloud at their behavior. Finally, she blurted out, "He is planning something impossible."

"Don't let his plans trouble you, Casey." The words were a repetition of when he had first spoken to her of Ivan.

"He's planning to confront Kapyn… to kill him! And he told me he wasn't going to let me go with you, that he'd kill you for – for – because of me." She pulled at Oliver's sleeve, needing to see how he reacted to the news.

He gave her a small smile and asked, "Do you fear his threats? Let him do what he will do."

Then the thought she really feared slipped out. "Killing Kapyn; it's not going to work, is it."

"No."

Tears stung Casey's eyes, and she rubbed them away. "I don't care," she voiced, trying to collect herself. "I'm not going to see him anymore."

"He has hurt you in some way."

The sentence was so direct, it startled her. She didn't want him to know how low Ivan had brought her to think of herself. Still, she replied, "He told me – he told me you were lying. He said no one does things without expecting something. He meant-,"

"I do expect something, I've told you that. I expect you to return here." They entered a larger cavern. Beams of light traveled from the roof and reflected off the icicle-like formations of sparse stalactites above.

"Oliver." She stared into his eyes frankly. "I'm not going to come back." They paused, looking at each other. He didn't speak; his serene expression never altered. "So, will you still help me to go home when the Viliath comes?"

"Yes."

Her lips trembled to ask why, but she stilled them.

"We must cross the current soon to follow the mountain. The way is difficult, so hold to me." She stepped behind him, still wondering what motivated him to help her. Was there something about leaving Dreone that would make her want to come back again? But she'd be home! There could be nothing better than that.

The fast-traveling current dipped down and disappeared beneath a ledge. Oliver helped her descend, and they moved carefully across the sliver of walkway as he drew her arms around his torso. Casey closed her eyes. The drop was steep and the strip of land on which they were to walk was aslant. There wasn't anything to hold onto. If she should lose her balance… She shut her eyes and buried her face.

Casey breathed into his shirt, her forehead pressed against him. She became aware that there wasn't a smooth feeling of skin underneath the rough material. There was a substance beneath which was adamant and uneven. Yet, she was concentrating on her steps too intently to focus on anything more.

When they reached the other side, Oliver lifted her to the rocky bank. Standing up, she found herself facing two passages.

"Come," he said, and entered the left tunnel.

"Is this the way to Kapyn's mountain?"

"Yes."

"Why are we going there?"

"This travels through a mountain range, all adjoining along the northernmost regions of Dreone to the eastern boundary. We are not safe to travel in the open. We will go beyond the mountain of the dragon to keep from crossing the path of the ones who have not returned to their side."

"Why are they here?"

"They are not here to raid, as I had supposed. Kapyn has returned, and still they remain, seeking something. And now they know I'm here."

"They didn't know you were here before now?"

"Casey," Oliver brought his face closer to hers, continuing their snatches of conversation as they walked. "I had no intention of letting them know I was still alive. To keep my place here, I taught the pixies to fear me. I let them believe I was not human. Because I have spoken to you, the pixies now know what I am. I believe it is they who have betrayed me to those to whom I had wished to remain dead."

"But, how could they do that? They don't talk to the wild ones, do they?"

"There are other ways. Fire. And blood. The forests on this side, next to the divide, were set ablaze to be seen by the ones celebrating across the way; and beasts from the herds were killed and drained in the valley to incite Kapyn to leave his lair. These things brought the humans to investigate."

"But, who told them you were here?"

"I have left the marks of my survival. They would know it."

"Do they know about the dragonflies?" she asked, thinking of the one which had landed on her nose in the Death Cove.

"They know only that the dragonflies are the means by which many have come to this place. To them, the dragonflies are a mystery which they wish to understand. They have not learned the ways of the nymph. They will never learn it; I would destroy all dragonflies before such a thing could be understood by them."

They turned into another passage, and Casey saw shafts of light from an adjoining grotto. She pulled away sharply as he took her other hand in his. It was the hand she'd used to strike the wall. "I hurt my knuckles," she explained, lifting it for him to view.

"And, yet, the rest of you is unharmed. Is this the work of the water the pixies call 'Zource'?"

Casey smiled. "You know about it, don't you? Tell me about the Zource!"

Oliver seemed reluctant; but, as they drew into a new corridor, he spoke quietly. "It comes from the southern peak. The pixies who dwell there are different from the ones here, possibly because they are so far removed from their kind. Of the pixies, I respect those of the southern peak alone. They are protectors, as my own clan once was."

"They protect the Zource," asserted Casey, in a rush of breath. She was trying to keep up, as he skirted dips in the unlevel path.

"Yes."

"But what is the Zource exactly?"

"I do not know its origins, or why it repairs humans. Many shun its power. I have never tasted of it. It is believed that those who shed blood will perish from it." They continued for a few paces before he added, "Once, as a part of my challenge for manhood, I was brought to the base of the southern peak and told to dip my hands to wash my eyes that I might read the words of my destiny. The great foundation of the southern peak holds what are said to be the prophecies of my people."

"Like the one about you? 'The prince who conquers the dragon?'"

"Have you read more of my story since last we spoke?"

"I tried to, but-," As she walked, she pulled the wad of script out of her pocket. "I spilled Zource on it accidentally." She showed him how the last pages were illegible.

He took the almost-empty sheets from her, considering them momentarily. "The words of my destiny are nothing to me now. I have studied them. I know there is no prince who conquers the dragon." There was a vein of hardness which ran through his voice.

He took the sheets from her, and crumpled them in his hand. "It is for the best that you cannot know more of the things I recorded. I do not think you could understand about my journey."

Casey pursed her lips. It was an echo of Ivan's words: she couldn't understand.

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**A/N: Were there more answers in this chapter?**

**Estrangelo Edessa: I'm thrilled for the cranberry orange muffin! Surprises are always fun.** **"I'm still waiting for her to kiss Oliver. I know that makes no sense…" Yeah, it doesn't. You despise him, I've gathered. Do explain. Casey didn't destroy Glader, just mangled it a bit.**

**Iliana11: Thanks for the compliments about my scribblings. You are so sweet. "In a way, this reminds me of Lord of the Flies." Oh, yay! That's a book I hate to love. You can tell Golding experienced World War II firsthand. There are some very pointed questions LotF brings out about authority and the role of government. I wonder if he ever found the answers.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Ivan's behavior is not always the best, but I still think his intentions are good." I'm reminded of the saying, '**_The end doesn't justify the means._**' "Not everything that is pleasing to the eyes and ears is what is best for us." Ah, wise words. Isn't it interesting that God made beauty and beautiful things to appeal to our senses, influencing us to like what we might otherwise never notice? That's why the immediate distrust for Oliver amuses me; most of us have been burned by the pretty things. Not everything that is pleasing to the eyes and ears is bad for us, either. Sometimes it takes digging deeper.**

**Lady Thorne: While Casey tolerates a lot to get along with Ivan, I think it's clear she can stand up for herself, even though she doesn't see it that way at the moment. Whoa... why is my profanity filter having to clean up your review? :( I care about keeping this clean. Please help me with that.  
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**Hazelcloud: (Anakin Skywalker ) Oo, makes sense to me! Of course, thinking of the Star Wars ending… hm. "He's just feeding the fire that eventually leads to hatred." 'Feeding the fire' is a great idiom to use. When he calls her 'Ethel' this time, it is similar to when they first met. He knew her name wasn't 'Ethel' then; he was ridiculing her. Have you ever noticed how nicknames can go from forms of ridicule to terms of endearment? At the end of chapter 49, it was bordering on endearing there.**


	53. Itra Cavern

**Over 300 reviews. Wow! **

**And Happy Birthday, Arista Everett June! **

**Sounds like cause for a double update… :D**

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Chapter 53 – Itra Cavern

"Can we rest?" she asked.

"We cannot rest here, Casey. If a hunter is tracking us, he will take me – and he'll take you."

"Wouldn't he just kill me?"

He didn't answer, but bent his knees, lowering his height; his back remained fixedly straight. "I will carry you."

Casey hesitated. She looked behind her into the shadowy passage cautiously before timidly wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her and she thought she would fall backwards, his back was so upright.

"What is on your back?" she asked, feeling something sticking out at his sides where her legs rested.

"I will show you, but not now."

The rocking of Oliver's gait made her sleepy. She finally gave in and rested her head against his. The dark curls tickled her nose and she blew them away. He smelled of warm embers. It would have been a nice scent; but, since her experiences with Kapyn, it wasn't a pleasant association anymore.

Casey awoke at intervals to peer over Oliver's shoulder only to fade back into slumber again. She could hear the rush of the water. Awaking, she found the current had appeared beside them as pinhead rays of light peeped through overhead. The level of the water was high enough that she could see it as it slapped the walls in its hurry to pass through. The sound of it faded as she slept again. She had expected he would tire of carrying her. Yet, his pace remained brisk and strong.

She awoke once more, feeling the sensation of her back prickling uncomfortably with the spiked temperature. Yet, even the heat did not wake her fully. Instead the need for sleep grew stronger. There was a span of time in which she opened her eyes only once, aware that the noise of the water could no longer be heard.

When he finally halted, it was to say, "We are here."

'Here' was a chamber smaller in size than the cavern with the brown water. A pellucid, pale blue light swathed the vaulted cave from top to bottom in an ethereal blanket as the lumin light shone golden in contrast. She felt hushed with awe, and soon wanted to explore it, letting go slightly with her legs and arms.

He did not relax his hold, but turned his head toward her face. "I have loved having you close, listening to your soft breathing."

Casey's heart swelled twice its size with these words. She wrapped her arms snugly around his neck, burying her face in his hair impetuously. Surprisingly, her throat became choked with emotion, surfacing briefly. Just as quickly as the sentiments hit her, she suppressed them. It brought back her self-deprecating thoughts in the cave after fighting with Ivan. Why was Oliver so kind?

He released her and she ventured toward a patch of light embedded in the wall. "What pretty stones!" She reached up to touch one.

"They are found in the Death Cove, as well; but they are different here, aren't they?"

She pulled her hand away quickly, recognizing the similarity in shape to that of the sharp pieces which had cut her during her descent. "How? How do they glow this way in here?"

"Touch the surface of the wall and see."

She placed her hand to the side of the azure gem, and removed it quickly. "It's hot!"

"It's only warm. We are on the other side of Kapyn's mountain, see how the heat travels."

Casey's eyes grew wide. "You mean, the fire from Kapyn's lair heats these stones, and that makes them glow?"

"The heat begins a process. Touch the surface of the stone itself."

She lifted her index finger to press it gingerly on a small facet. The feel was surprisingly icy, and she remembered its texture. "This is what you gave me to run to the cave in the gorge!"

"Yes. There are vapors trapped within these stones which the heat awakens. It causes the glow and the temperature change." He had approached another blue gem protruding from the wall. From the tucks in his belt he brought forth a small curved tool of ebony, and used it to loosen it from the rock. "They are fragile. The tiniest crack in the Itra (Ee-tra) and the light is no more," he told her as he lifted the stone above his head, allowing its tranquil rays to refract, scattering across the floor of the cave.

He carried the burning blue stone to her and placed it in her hand. She observed it placidly, noting how the segments of dark rock, still attached, heightened the deeper hue of the cool light's inner facets. "It's beautiful."

"Yes. And in the mouths of dragons, it is deadly." She looked up at him, handling the stone with more fear than curiosity. "Dragons crave Itra. It is found in abundance in the northern mountain."

"You mean Kapyn eats it?"

"Not for nourishment. It soothes his stomach. When it enters the bloodstream, it causes a dragon to sleep for long periods of time. That commingling is present on the breath, and escapes in larger quantities from the dragon's blood. Dragonbreath can cause anything from mildly affecting the mind's ability to reason to violent insanity, depending on the quantity of Itra and how recently it was consumed. Being in the presence of a wounded dragon, one exposed to the rapid escape of the fumes in the blood would experience permanently mind-altering effects at best."

Casey did not speak. Her somber expression was enough. Now she understood the repercussions of what a Glader-stab might do. Ivan's figure, as he had pointed the weapon toward her, appeared in her mind's eye. Knowing the imminent doom of his plight, she felt the powerlessness sweep over her again; she could not change what would happen. It was such an incisive consequence for him, even if he deserved it. Did he deserve it? She shook the thought away.

Viewing the halcyon glow of the blue stone, another thought occurred to her. "Does Kapyn come to eat _this_?" she asked, her eyes taking in the circumference of the chamber as though wary of finding the dragon peering around a corner.

"This sparse dose of Itra does not tempt him; he flies to the dens of Drakkytbet for his fill when he is free to do so." Casey wrinkled her nose, ready to question what could possibly keep a dragon from being free, when Oliver explained, "You see, without Itra, Kapyn remains wakeful and the clans do not come."

"But, how do you keep him from going to eat it?"

"The pixies placate him with meat. A fat, filled dragon will not be so eager to fly away. But, yesterday, he flew to Drakkybet and ate with his own. His sleep is deep now." For a moment, hope blossomed within Casey. Maybe Ivan wouldn't have to kill Kapyn! Maybe he could somehow escape without dying.

"So," she queried, at the same time reprimanding herself for grasping at straws of hope for Ivan, "if Kapyn is sleeping deeply, wouldn't that be the perfect opportunity to leave through the portal?"

"You do not understand what it is that links him to the Karshra. If you knew this, you would know that even his beast's mind has no control over what he will do to guard it. He is unlike any of his kind which fly to the dens of Drakkytbet."

"His kind? You mean other dragons. He is different from other dragons?"

"Yes." Oliver handed her the oddly-shaped pouch of water, which she drank from gratefully. He removed his cloak, lifting the material from his shoulders. The shapeless apparel hung from his hand like gray seaweed, which he balled up and tucked into the overlapping layer of his tunic.

"How many dragons are there in the dens of Drakkytbet?" she asked, wiping the drip of water at her chin, and wondering if he would grow impatient with her many questions.

"I do not know the numbers. There are many. They do not reside in the mountain to be counted, they come from regions beyond."

She didn't know whether she liked the news that there were more dragons and more regions. "How big is this place? The whole thing, I mean."

"Axioni (Ah-shee-oh-nee) is not defined by boundaries."

"I meant a – a stopping point."

"I should like to be the one to find it. It would be the end of what can be known, in a way." His eyes took on a distant expression. "Yet, to know all that can be known… it is impossible." He viewed her face with an enigmatic smile. "Isn't it?"

Her heart dropped to her stomach as she recalled his story. Gathering the courage, she asked, "What is the Gnosis?"

Immediately, his eyes met hers, as the smile played at the sides of his mouth. "Ah, so you _do _know the purpose of my story."

"Ivan said you were searching for a red stone called the Gnosis, and that it means 'knowledge'."

"It is true. I returned to Dreone because of it. But, to call it 'knowledge' alone does not describe it well. Consider that you seek to understand this place, while I seek to tame it. It is a similar difference with the meaning of the Gnosis. It is knowing. To call it 'knowledge' is not enough."

"Are you still looking for it, then?"

"No, I no longer seek it; but I remain in Dreone to protect this side – to protect Kapyn, as well. Like Ivan, there are many who will never give up on returning to their home."

"I am afraid of what they would do there, but I understand never giving up. I wish you could share that feeling; I wish you could feel the same way I do about home."

"You call it 'home', and do not open your heart to this place. What is it you need there that you can't have here?"

"My family," Casey answered with a catch in her throat.

Oliver seemed to consider this before saying, "And that is something you want to return for. How will it be when you look on them again?"

"It will be wonderful!"

He looked away and responded, "Yes." She wondered if he was thinking of his clan, the Ceiah.

"Look; I need to know what's going to be different when I return. You're so sure I'll want to come back here. Why? No! Never mind. I don't want to know. You don't know what home is like, so you can't know how I'm going to feel."

He nodded in response. "I will do what I have said, and help you find your way back."

"You are not lying to me, right?" she blurted out, feeling as though it had to be asked.

"I have not deceived you, Casey; but what assurance is there in telling you I haven't?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I believe what anyone says to me anymore." She sighed wearily. "I've felt like a yo-yo. It's like I have no way of knowing what's real. Especially here. I can't be sure of anything here."

His eyebrows drew together with concern. "And you are sure of what is real in your home?"

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**A/N: How would you respond to Oliver's last question?**

**EstrangeloEdessa: Blueberry? Delish! That's weird about the "Gread" thing. We seem to have these lovely things in common – you know, like the same sense of humor and stuff.** **"Small detail, to be sure, but you're the kind of writer who puts in EVERYTHING for a specific reason." I was just thinking about that. It's kind of obsessive-compulsive of me. "Does Oliver have some sort of control over the lumins, as well as the dragonflies?" Hint: what did he do before they came to the passage with the lumins? Hm… a dramatic moment. I think you'll find one in the next chapter.  
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**Backroads: "He's so wise and brave and yet... there's something rather weak about him. I'm not quite sure what that is, but he's not as perfect as I once assumed him to be." Does it affect how you feel about him? You wrote, "Your characters me!" What does that mean? Is one of the story characters alot like you? Or do they exasperate you? I'm dying to know.**

**Iliana11: "When someone realizes that the life he or she has lived is false, he or she must discover what truth is in order to find some satisfaction in life." That is a sensible conclusion. Unfortunately, many prefer to find satisfaction in believing there isn't any truth, leaving each person to seek what makes self happy for the moment. Oliver is not happy; he harbors anger toward the Greads and anger toward the ignorance of the people he loved. He's learned a great deal, but the anger clouds his judgment. That remind you of anyone else in the story?  
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**Arista Everett June: "I'm just afraid for Ivan...Poor, violent, hateful, muddy, wonderful Ivan. *ISG flag wave*" xD! He's wonderful for these reasons?**

**Delia Anole: You've made it to chapter 53! "Either Oliver is a liar, or Ivan dies. How I despise this conclusion of mine!" I gather you're not alone in thinking one or the other is going to die. There are at least three other reviewers who keep going back and forth on this idea. "Ivan is all talk, no walk." Do you mean to say, if he hadn't nodded off, you think he would have let Oliver take Casey?**

**Quiet Mindreader: (Ivan)"…But he believes there is a truth to be found, and he is actively looking for it." Know what? I agree with you.** **"But are you giving me hints about the plot, or are you trying to cleverly distract me?" Distract you? Who me? *innocent look* :D (Oliver) "He sounds like he doesn't put himself in the category of 'human'." He's just saying the Zource affects only humans in this particular way. The Zource and the writings are not near the Death Cove. "I feel like I should be figuring out your symbolism much more quickly than I am." I admit, this concerns me, because it might be my denseness in assuming you already know things I haven't stated in the story. Still, this and the next chapter might help. Btw, your review showed me you have caught more than I thought was evident. Thanks for sticking with the story! You don't know how much fun it is for me to share this with you.**


	54. Of Savages and Princes

**Part two of the double update:**

Chapter 54 – Of Savages and Princes

"Oh, it's different there. My home is safe. I'm not hunted by wild Greads and bitten by pixies. I don't have a dragon breathing down my neck, and… and-,"

"And what else?"

"And there are no rules here! There are rules at home."

"There are rules. You've been following them. They are just different from the ones you're accustomed to."

"You mean the rules about Kapyn? Like, 'don't kill animals because Kapyn will smell their blood?' or 'don't start fires because Kapyn doesn't like it?' Or 'feed the dragon so he'll stop flaying everything and go back to sleep?'

"It is the only means to keep away those who want to control this place. Can you not see that as long as Kapyn remains wakeful, those who fear the dragon will not venture here so readily? The pixies who are now rebelling against me will not find themselves free, by any means. Surely you understand that the mightiest leads."

"So, you use Kapyn and you use the pixies. You made these rules?"

"Yes. Imagine what would've been the welcome you would have received if this side was inhabited by the Greads. You would have found yourself in the clutches of those who live to war. They reason only in the ways of strife; they perfect a remorseless drive to conquer. The pixies would be wiped out in droves, and the remaining few would go into hiding once more. The Greads do not value them."

"You don't seem to have any love for the pixies, either. You just seem to use them, and they fear you. Why?" The thought registered in that moment and spilled out of Casey's mouth. "You killed Zifford, didn't you?"

She knew the answer before he gave it. Casey's eyes filled with reproach. "Do you have any remorse for that? You should."

"His rebelliousness had to be suppressed before it spread. It is a precarious thing to protect those who do not wish to be protected. Pixies have no love of humans; I could only gain their obedience through their fear and superstitions."

The heat which rose to Casey's face showed her disturbance with his reasoning. "But, who gave you the right to be their protector?" It was not only the pixies' choice she argued for. His thoughts were too much like Ivan's. "And you don't protect them for their sakes, you protect them because you don't want the Greads here. You protect them because – why?"

He didn't answer, but observed, "You speak of 'the right' as though you know what that is. What is 'the right', Casey?"

"It's… the power to decide for somebody else, to take away their choice. Who gave that to you? Everyone should have the right to decide for themselves, make their own choices, and have the same say as everyone else. Equal. It's being equal."

"I have been declared a dragon god while my hands were bound and nothing was my choice. I have languished in a cell to starve because I refused to choose whose authority I would follow. Laws hang like thin and transparent veils, even in your world, Casey. Is everyone really equal there?" He ended his question in a whisper and waited, before asking, "Do you wish to be equal with the pixies, Casey?"

She realized then that she hadn't considered her life on the same plane as Zifford's. Unconsciously, she had felt her worth to be greater than the pixies. Was it? Who made that decision? She knew from the conversations she had had with Zyri, and overhearing Zbori's consent to kill Ivan, that pixies valued humans less. She inhaled and answered, "I wish to be equal with the Greads."

Oliver drew back in surprise at her response. "They don't even value their own lives," he spat.

"But, what makes you any different when you use cruelty in order to drive away cruelty? How can that be just?"

What is 'just,' Casey? Teach me." She saw he spoke it as a challenge. Inwardly, she perceived he would overcome her reasons, whatever she presented; but, still, she had to defend what she had always believed. She could never blindly agree to the assumption that there was nothing just or unjust, wrong or right, allowed or forbidden.

"Well, it wasn't right when they killed your clan," she said. "You can't think that was just."

"I don't."

"But, they – the Greads – think it was just. Which of you is correct?"

"I am."

"Why?"

"Because I've seen what is the outcome of their existence. They survive by overcoming other clans, and gathering more to them by force."

"And that gives you the right decide whether they live or die? You have the right to kill them?"

"I don't have to kill them. I just have to wait until they go after a stronger people."

"You mean someone more powerful will take them over."

"They will either annihilate each other to extinction or be annihilated."

"But, don't you see? You sound just like them! How can you think your way is better than theirs? You're both doing the same thing."

"Casey," he sighed, and she could see the fury abate which she had stirred up in him for the ones who had taken his family. "My way is better because I have a greater understanding of what will occur."

She opened her mouth to question whether he understood more, but quickly closed it and looked down. She wasn't convinced, but couldn't prove he did not know the better way. She certainly didn't have a greater grasp on Dreone than he did.

The silence lengthened and neither of them moved. Finally, he touched her head with his hand tenderly. "I would vow never to kill again for you, if I could; but in this land, it is not possible. Your rules cannot be upheld here. Not now at least." He was quiet before he offered. "You need food. I will return shortly."

Casey lifted her head swiftly. "You mean for me to stay here alone?"

"I'll return shortly," he repeated.

"You say that…" She let the sentence trail away as her eyes held the anxiety she felt.

"There is a patch of vegetation between this and the adjoining mountain. I will not be gone long."

"I want to come with you."

"Come with me then." This time he paused, but did not reach for her hand. His face gave no indication of sadness, though hers was downcast. He walked ahead and she followed. She wanted to slip her hand into his and know the safety of his guidance; but she felt at a loss. There was something that tugged at her. 'Do you have the right to decide whether I live or die?' she had wanted to ask, but didn't.

They left the mountain, climbing down a short pathway before coming upon a dense, but small, area of tall trees rising and shielding them from view. They trekked deeper into the verdure, and Casey felt her exhaustion return. She balled her hands into fists and tried to keep up, stepping over vines, and skirting tangled thickets and leafage.

And then the feelings of being betrayed and alone caught up with her. There, in her traipse through the undergrowth, her heart grew too heavy to bear her estrangement with Oliver. She tried to contain the sobs as the escaping tears streamed down her cheeks, but one choke caught her unaware. He turned swiftly; and, without a word, circled his arms around her. Her face was crushed into his tunic, and she felt the warmth of his skin beneath. The turmoil within could not be stilled, and she gave way to it, her resolve melting in his embrace. Her heart rent as she silently shook; and when her breath became calm again, he gently pulled back the strands of tear-bathed hair from her face. She felt his lips brush her eyelid, and against the bridge of her nose. "I would do anything for you, Sezo. Your tears cut through me."

He brought her to sit beside the trunk of a blue tree, and tore the side of the greenish-blue plant, revealing chalky white within the leaf of the pseudostem. Peeling back the chalky film, she saw a moist, pale green and ivory substance beneath. A dark green-tinged trail, peppered with shiny blue seeds, lined the circumference of the thick leaf. "You must eat." He took her hand and pressed her fingers into the flesh of the plant, blending the dark shades with the lighter insides. It moved beneath her touch, syrupy and gelatinous. Using her hand as a shovel, she lifted a small amount and brought it to her mouth. The mound of plant-meat settled onto her tongue. The starchy, sweetness pleased her palate, juxtaposed by the crunchy, tart seeds. It was a wholly new taste; yet, the flavor held some familiar aspect. "It's something like bananas," she told him, and reached to retrieve another mouthful. He placed the stiff leaf on her lap and stood.

She gave half of her attention to him and half to peeling back the white layer for more. He seemed alert to something. "What are you watching for?" she asked.

"Peeled rusl (roo-sl) brings visitors." He motioned upward through the vine-draped trees and she saw movement. "Eat. They will not harm you. They want to see you."

"What are they?" Just as soon as the words were spoken, she watched a small, lithe form scamper down the limbs and swing across to wait against the crook of a low branch just above her head. The monkey wrung its hands as though preparing a good joke, and stared, with beady, active eyes, taking in their movements.

"What a tiny thing," breathed Casey, her tear-stained face brightening.

Oliver took a small portion of the rusl's fruit and held out his hand toward the curious animal. The answering leap to his shoulder startled her. Casey watched with her meal of rusl arrested on its way to her mouth.

The prince laughed in his low, musical way as the small creature fed on the substance on his hand, while the quick, little eyes kept Casey in view. When the rusl was cleaned away, the monkey ran across his shoulder, down his back, underneath his tunic, and back up through the neck, peering around his head to see her. "She remembers me," he said, with a pleased expression.

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**A/N: What is your reaction to what Oliver told Casey?**

**Musing, a fellow-writer who loves delicious words like I do, messaged me something which really, really touched me.  
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"_Mockingbyrd, you should realize that with the amount of people who read your story and actually take the time to review, you not only create fans, but also create admirers who want to start their own work of art. You are an inspiration to many people, and it's just a very uplifting emotion. I think many owe their thanks to you."_

**To think I might inspire and uplift writers like Musing is so amazing. I love sharing my scribblings! Some of you have connected with other writers and read their stories because of the discussions in this one. That's one of the reasons I post public review replies, to multiply that feedback momentum. I've truly learned so much from reviewers and writers on ffn, and am grateful to be able to give something back.**


	55. What The Monkey Knew

**Have a happy Independence Day to you guys in the USA!**

**I'll be on vacation, and will not post next Thursday. Hope you enjoy the info in this chapter.**

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Chapter 55 – What the Monkey Knew

The tiny creature made a series of low clicking consonants before screeching when Casey giggled, as though mimicking the pitch of her voice. "She's speaking to you."

"What is she saying?" Casey's smile was accompanied by signs of her repast still across her mouth and cheek.

"I can't translate it. She will have to tell you that," he teased, turning his head toward the miniature monkey as she crawled into the bend of his elbow and jumped down. She looked at Casey and approached timidly.

"Hello," she spoke to the cautious animal.

Feigning to draw close to the piece of rusl on her lap, the little one raced up her arm instead and tousled her hair about, 'giggling.' From above, others repeated her refrain and added their own variations.

"She must like your hair."

Casey looked through her flipped tresses with an irrepressible grin. "She is so small!"

"The larger species dwell with the pixie tribes. These smaller ones find it better here. The variety of vegetation isn't as good, but they dine well enough on nectar, insects and rusl."

"Poor things," cooed Casey, reaching up to touch the one sitting at the base of her neck. "They've pushed you out, haven't they?"

"I should warn you, they have a tendency to fight over kind attentions." She followed his gaze and found more of the monkeys had come to view her from above, and were inching closer. Four or five had already dropped to the ground and were gaining courage to scamper forward.

"Who gives them kind attentions, Oliver?" She smirked at him. "I doubt you mean the pixies."

"No. The pixies give them nothing, while the larger monkeys take their territory from them; but there is room here."

"Poor things," Casey repeated ironically, as two fought over who would swing on his arm. She couldn't resist the impulse to laugh, watching him with the playful animals. Suddenly, the female sitting at the base of her neck leapt over her head with a screech and fended off the rest, as though to say, 'He's mine! Back away.' The others obeyed. Oliver's quick friend ran down his back and ran back up underneath his tunic again. Her body was hidden while her tiny face popped up through the hole at the neck.

"I think she's jealous," Casey observed.

"She's protecting me."

"Ah."

"More specifically, she's protecting my back."

"Why? What's there?" asked Casey, suddenly remembering he'd said he would show her.

He hesitated, considering her, before loosening the tie at his waist. From there, he released the small laces of his tunic and turned his back toward her. The garment slid down his arms. Casey gasped as she saw what the monkey had recognized him by.

From shoulder blades to waist, his back was covered in a mosaic of glossy stone and metal. She recognized the dark metal-work as the same she'd seen over the eye of the Gread. Slender, curving lines the color of charcoal framed each segment of the bright precious stones. The whole of the shape across his back was as though two long sets of pale golden wings, overlapping one another, were at rest there. At the sides of his waist, the metal had somehow been extended to give the impression that the wings were raised from his body, though she could see how each piece was attached into a stretched loop of skin. The aggregate of the stones and dark trim created the illusion of multihued unity. It was beautiful, spine-tinglingly breathtaking. And horrific.

"Oh," she gasped, standing up with no regard for the rusl leaf. Part of her cringed to examine his back, but she moved forward, entranced by the spectacle. His head was turned so that he saw her approach and reach her hand out. "Does it hurt?" she asked, forgetting for the moment that he had carried her on his back only a short time before.

"What feeling there is on the surface of my skin is inconsistent," he told her frankly.

Some of the pieces stirred slightly under her fingertips while others remained immobile. Where the gems had spread with time, patches of keloidal scarring formed between stones and border. The skill of the artist had manipulated the flesh to bond with and accentuate the great masterpiece. The skin had grown around and over some of it where there were natural bends and creases. At the top of his shoulders thin, vertical scars were apparent. They looked less well-defined than the work down his back.

The monkeys watched them, somehow sensing the solemnity. She wanted to comfort him, but couldn't think of what she could say. She bit her lip, but didn't realize it until it stung in response.

"Let's return," he told her. "The light will fade soon." As he began to lift the sleeve over his arm, she reached for it and held the other side out for him, watching as the created 'wing' rippled over his shoulder blade.

He buried the remains of the rusl leaf and poured the rest of the water from the flask for her to wash her face and hands of the sticky substance. Following Oliver up the sloping mountain toward the Itra-lit cave, Casey glanced behind as they left the wooded path. The monkeys had come to the edge to see them to the last. She could now perceive the light dimming through the clouds above. She was glad. Even with the frequent naps that day, she felt ready to sleep again.

"How old were you, when – when that happened?" she asked, speaking of the wings on his back, after they were ensconced beneath the cerulean canopy of the cavern. The welcoming serenity of the atmosphere had loosened her tongue. She felt freer to speak on the sensitive subject.

"I do not know my age, but I will soon pass my seventeenth season in this land with the return of the Viliath. It has been three seasons – your 'years' – since this was put upon my back. The wings originally began at my shoulders, but some of them I've removed; others have shifted as I've grown." Casey's teeth were set as she took in his words. "I did not show you for you to revel in the emotion I see in your face. Do not hurt for me." He shook his head. "You love to feel what others feel, don't you? You yearn to understand the concerns of so many. It is a strange way to inflict pain upon yourself, Casey."

"Is it that strange that I care about what you've gone through? Only – oh! I can't imagine what it was like to – to-,"

"I would not change it. It taught me to think beyond what I thought I was capable of knowing. You and I, we are different from monkeys or pixies. For us, what is weakness can become strength."

"I could never handle what you have been through, Oliver."

"You cannot know unless you are tried."

"Oh, I don't want to be tried." She leaned against a pillar of stone tiredly.

"Then you will not find the strength within."

"Or the lack thereof. Oliver, not everyone has the ability to withstand what you have! And," Casey looked sorrowfully toward him, speaking quietly, "I'm not sure it has been good for you. There is something in you that is… cold. I see it when you talk of the Greads."

"Some memories are scars." His tone changed as he added, "Recently, I've attained new memories, which began with an even mind rhythm becoming a charming visitor, who has remained in my thoughts longer than I have allowed any other."

Casey didn't react to his compliments. It had prompted her to consider his part in her appearance in Dreone. "You said you had the dragonflies wait for me at my grandpa's. Did you know they would take me? Is it because of you that I'm here?"

"I have no influence over their choice. Many things appeal to a dragonfly, and they are easily distracted. When they choose who to swarm, it is rarely one who consciously gives attention to them."

"But, they might have gone away if you hadn't tried to get them to come back again."

"Perhaps. They go many places and rehearse to one another the things that intrigue them. You spent enough time with them that the rehearsal of your mind's performance became quite familiar. When I recalled to them the rhythm of your thoughts in hopes that they would find you again, I did it with no expectation. Yet, I admit, it was a wish I could not part with because my appreciation had grown with each meeting."

"So, if I hadn't spent so much time observing them, they might not have taken me."

"You spent much time in contemplation of them. More than most. But, then, that might be a confirmation of the unique rhythm of your mind. Your thoughts enabled you to court their attentions for a period that brought them to you repeatedly."

This news made Casey sigh. Although it wouldn't have changed her plight one whit for Oliver to have actuated the entire reason for her stay in Dreone, she had wanted to find a means to say, 'I was not to blame; I had no hand in coming here.' It seemed the more she learned, the more she felt that the situations she encountered were somehow of her making. Something about her had caused Ivan to help her; and something about her had caused him to react strongly toward her again and again. Oliver had reacted to her, as well, causing him to speak to her, making his presence known and putting his life in peril.

"Why did you talk to me in Kapyn's mountain? I mean, I know all the mind rhythm stuff, but – why did you risk it? You had to know the pixies would get suspicious."

"You needed me, and I wanted to share Dreone with you."

"Then why did you leave me alone there?"

"I didn't leave you. You left me."

Casey's sleepy eyes became wide with reproach as she averred, "No, I didn't. I called for you."

"Ivan was in the mountain. He heard you. I did not wish to interfere with your choice, and you were eager to go with him."

"What about when I was almost taken by Kapyn?"

"The pixie made good use of Kapyn's ways. He is one of the older dragons trained to bring humans from the cave in Dreone to the mines, and given Itra as a reward. If he had taken you, I would have brought him back again by summoning the dragonflies."

Casey lifted her eyes to his tiredly. "Oliver, there are so many things I still need to know. When the Viliath comes, what will happen?

"First, sleep. We can speak of this when you wake again."

"I'm afraid to sleep."

"I have seen no signs of a hunter since we left the water. You are safe. I will stay with you and watch."

"You won't leave?" He answered by closing the distance between them and sitting down beside her. Casey soon found Oliver's chest a far better alternative to the uneven surface of his back. Immediately her mind returned to his embrace, the caress of his lips on her face as he had told her he would do anything. 'Anything?' she thought, as she lay with her ear against his rough tunic, lulled by the restful beating beneath. She had grown to admire him, look up to him for his experience and will to do more than just survive. Their bond had been gradual; she couldn't discern exactly when or how it had come about.

She realized she didn't want to leave him. More than anything, she wanted him to know of peace. She saw now that he wasn't the calm demeanor he presented. Oh, he was strong and true, but the hatred within him was only biding its time, chiseling out a hole in the heart which longed to trust in someone. He had proven himself as a warrior, brave but misled. She found herself comparing Oliver's fight to Ivan's. They were alike, refusing to accept the forces against them. They both actively opposed anything that might prevent their freedoms. She cared about them, both Ivan and Oliver. She wanted them to rise above not only their circumstances, but also the prisons of fear and hate that each had buried inside as a means of protecting a loyal heart. Ivan had driven her away; but perhaps she could show Oliver a glimpse of the unselfish love he sought, maybe she could help him.

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**A/N: Have you read the reviewers' reactions to Oliver for the previous chapters? Just **_**lurved**_** how different they were. I wonder who would think like Casey does in the last paragraphs.**

**Iliana11: "piercing the veil of fictional words to see the author underneath" This is one of the coolest phrases ever, although I had no idea I'd made myself that viewable. Thank you for your sweet compliments. I'm so glad I've been able to write with you!**

**EstrangeloEdessa: "I can just imagine a necklace made of Itra." Oo, what a pretty thought.** **"I think you need to change your summary." Good idea. I'll think on that. "He's already kissed Casey." Did he kiss Casey? Not quite…**

**Delia Anole: "I feel so special..." :D "Really, that is an awesome idea to do with reviews! It is so creative of you!" I'm not that creative; I learned it from fantastic writers here.** **"I've decided that I should never again show (to the author at least) any character favoritism!" Lol! I'm not going to say reviewers' remarks don't influence me; they do. (Casey) "She is a breath of fresh air in a place filled with destruction and death." I like the way you put that.**

**Backroads: "I also just spent the past few days in the mountains so I'm especially in the mood to enjoy pretty descriptions like yours." Now I'm jealous. "Casey is used to our civilization and our freedoms." Yep. I think we take our fresh air and unrestricted thought for granted. "Oliver is trying to do what he feels his best for so many." If only sincerity was the same as truth.**

**anonymousxgenius: "Ollie (do you mind if I call him that?)" :) I don't mind at all. "who/what is 'Sezo'" There's an author's note about it after chapter 39. You delved into meanings of the names! Cool. Oh, your questions are exactly what I needed. Thanks!**

**Quiet Mindreader: The waters divide near the bridge where the wild ones cross, a.k.a., the rushing waters. (Ivan speaks about the close proximity of the bridge in chapter 46.) While the separation of the water does dredge out some things, the water leading to Kapyn's lair isn't clean. (This is why Casey's arm was infected so quickly. She bathed in it after the Glader tongue cut on her arm.) I'm not yet ready to say where the prophetic writings are, or where the pixies go to obtain Zource; but these are not near the bridge. Sorry about not clarifying that well in my first response. Enjoyed reading your theories, musings, and questions, which have already helped me. I'll PM you when I get back. Thanks for the great feedback!**


	56. A Riddle of the Eyes

**A/N: **_**Dfly Prince**_** has been suffering neglect because its author is moving. I'm going to take a month to catch up. Look for the next chapter in August; and, in the meantime, please encourage this busy scribbler with your reviews!**

**Recap on the story: We left them in the Itra cavern, where Oliver told her he'd keep watch after returning from meeting little monkey friends and viewing/discussing the mosaic wings on Oliver's back. Casey fell asleep while thinking about her attachment to Oliver and his similarities to Ivan.**

Chapter 56 – A Riddle of the Eyes

It seemed only seconds before she opened her eyes to find light outside. She scrambled up from her resting place. Oliver wasn't there. Panicking, she scanned the chamber quickly and found no one. Casey tried to tell herself that he wouldn't leave her. Would he?

He didn't need her like she needed him. It caused her to contemplate what she now knew of his past. They understood things very differently. His idea of justice was not at all like hers; and, yet, that hadn't seemed to matter to him. In fact, he had accepted her stance rather contentedly. It was as though voicing her thoughts had confirmed something for him, and he was pleased and satisfied with her for disagreeing. Yet, she did not feel satisfied with him or that the questions had been answered for her.

Their beliefs separated them almost like a palpable barrier now. She'd known it was there all along. In order to accept him, she'd temporarily dismissed what she considered reasonable and true from her conscious mind, tucking away what made her who she was for the sake of his promises. In doing so, she had not recoiled from his views, but allowed her heart to ruminate on the new ideas which he had introduced. Yet, it continued to try her, causing her to doubt everything she knew.

The thoughts of helping him on which she had gone to sleep seemed ridiculous now. He did not need her help; he was the teacher, the guide. His lessons were puzzles. She couldn't see the whole picture to piece together where his philosophies led, so why had she assumed she could heal his heart? It caused her to wish she had never asked to know more of Dreone and its tangled affairs. It was terrible to be so naïve, to know she was easily persuaded because she wanted to believe everything and everyone was good. Was Oliver good? She didn't know! Could one be good and still be wrong in thoughts and words? Was it even fair to question him after he had protected her so patiently and tenderly?

He halted her meditations by entering the cavern from outside. He was carrying a large leaf. She stood, but did not greet him, as he picked up the water flask. "I thought you would rest for longer. You have slept enough?"

Casey yawned, but watched him warily. "I can't believe it's day already."

"It isn't. You must see."

He brought her to the entrance, and Casey registered the difference in the atmosphere above. The cloud-thick sky was bright with colors, wavering there like a rippling mirage. Moisture covered her face in an instant. Yet, it wasn't raining. It was as though the liquid just appeared on everything exposed to it. The substance continued to gather, and rolled down her face. She stuck out her tongue and tasted the cool, smooth water. Oliver placed the membranous flask high above on the flat surface of a rock and held the leaf to collect a rolling stream. Casey found a smaller leaf and mimicked his system, causing the trickles to congregate toward the tapered end at her lips.

Oliver's arms were bejeweled with droplets as he finished filling the water sack. Drawing up the sides of the large frond, he brought the leaf to her and pooled the liquid for her to drink. After two delicious, big gulps, she smiled appreciatively. The narrow end of the leaf collapsed as his hand tilted her chin upward. He bent his head to her face. "Sezo, the Viliath has taken to the water." Casey's wide eyes stared into his, mere centimeters away. "The clouds will soon cover the valley. Until then, we must travel by way of the mountains this night."

Soon she was following him into the wood couched in the hollow of the surrounding peaks. Casey, alert to any signs of the friendly creatures which had entertained her earlier that evening, saw no movement in the trees. As Oliver collected two segments of rusl, she asked, "Where are the -?" The moment her voice met the atmosphere, it seemed to be swallowed up in silence.

Oliver drew his mouth to her ear. "Sound and scent are cloaked by the clouds as they descend. It will be difficult for anyone to hunt us this way, but you must stay close always, for it will be equally difficult for me to find you if you stray from my side."

She nodded in assent. He slid the large, blue-green pieces of the plant between the belt and tunic at his back, taking her hand in his.

The dampness of Casey's clothes soon became an irritation. There was no mistaking that the water was cool, and walking with the added weight which saturated her clothing and dripped off her frame brought shivering fatigue quickly. The ground was drinking in the moisture readily and storing it beneath the surface. While a step might look dry, the moment her shoe came down, the upper layer of soil would be loosened, causing her to lose her balance and teeter along. She held to Oliver tightly, anchoring her hand against his upper arm as she slipped and skidded over the terrain. When the path began to ascend, she resorted to shoving her tennis shoes into the soft mud to keep from sliding backward. Oliver's feet seemed to know where to step; and Casey, often looked up to see what expression his face held. He was somewhere else in thought, she judged. What was he thinking of?

After a time, he stopped abruptly and lifted his face to the sky, smiling. It was evident he was taking in the novelty of the change in climate. He let go of her hand and moved to a large rock located beneath a grassy escarpment. Oliver forced the stone away as the water upon the boulder trickled down the surface where his hands were firmly positioned. It gave so that Casey saw the opening it uncovered. He moved for her to venture in first, holding the weight of the heavy rock. She quickly dashed out of the way, as he jumped into the passage behind her, creating a resounding thud as the rock shifted back into place.

All was pitch black. "Oliver," Casey whispered. "Are there lumins here?"

"Do you prefer them?" he asked, as the light of the Itra appeared. She looked to see the glistening cloth of his gray robe as he rewrapped it tightly and placed it back between the layers of his tunic." Her curiosity was piqued by knowing the garment was able to shield the Itra's light from view. "Where did that come from? Is it something the Greads made?"

"No. Nor can it be found but once a season in Dreone," he answered, and she heard the triumph in his voice.

They began the long trek through the northern range. The passages were different from the ones adjoining Kapyn's mountain, being extensively narrow. In places, they had to remain hunched to avoid knocking against the ceiling. Sandwiched between strait, almost smothering corridors were roomier pockets where they stopped to gain breath. The oxygen was thin and Casey remained light-headed, the journey taking on a surreal aspect. As though this wasn't enough, she found it befuddling to be so close to Oliver.

On and on they walked; and Casey began to consider that if she had known they would trek such a distance, she would have given up going with him. Yet, it was after taking a rest for the third time that he gave her knowledge of the length of their journey.

"We must reach the eastern boundary before tomorrow evening."

"You mean, we have to walk all day? Oliver, I can't do that!"

"When you cannot go on, I will carry you."

She shook her head. "I don't even know where we are going."

"To the place of the nymphs. We must reach it before they take to their harbors."

"And that will happen tomorrow night?"

"It will happen when the Viliath comes."

"But, I thought the Viliath was here?"

"The Viliath has only entered the waters circling Dreone's boundaries, and will soon meet the Ebydd. We have three days; it should take us two if we do not stop to sleep."

Two days walking! She was wearied by the thought of it. She dropped her arms in desperation. "And, what will happen when we get to the nymph place?"

"That is where you will be swarmed."

Casey's mouth dropped open, agog at this news. "You mean, I can go home then?"

"Come. We can speak while we are walking." He stood and so did she, her tiredness, if not forgotten, was at least curbed by the desire to feed her curiosity.

"The nymphs must mature before they can transfer you to your home. They must learn your scent. You will become a nymph harbor," he explained as they descended into a lower region of the mountain.

"Me?" This news astonished her before she was able to reflect on it. "Ah. That means I'll be able to summon the dragonflies?" He nodded. "What will I have to do? And how long will it take?"

"The maturation should not take longer than a day."

"And then I can go home?"

"Yes, once they have flown from you, you may summon them to return home at any time."

The hope which flooded into Casey's face caused the prince to give his short laugh. "A day!" repeated she. "So, how many days total are we talking here? You said two days walking, one day waiting for the nymphs to mature... Three days until…?"

"Perhaps four days before you may summon the dragonflies to return you to your home."

Four days! Four days seemed both attainable and ever so far away simultaneously. Ivan… Could he have waited four days? Had he already found the back way to enter Kapyn's mountain? Was it too late for him? He, too, might have been only four days from escaping.

Not heeding her steps, Casey mismanaged her weight on a loose rock. Her foot came down heavily as the ankle twisted. It wasn't a very bad twist, but she stopped for a minute to massage it before continuing.

On they walked, and the ankle grew unsteady as her leg muscles protested with burning reminders that the elevations and dips of climbing and squeezing through the many passages were not things a tired, ill-nourished girl could bear up under.

Oliver asked her repeatedly to rest after her strength to walk began to wane. "No. I want to get there. I don't want to be late for the Viliath," she responded rigidly. The ankle was throbbing in its demands to stop, but Casey ignored it. Pain didn't matter in comparison to what would be hers in four days.

When she twisted it again, though, she was forced to retire her aching limbs. Oliver assuaged her woe with a leaf of rusl, and left her with an Itra stone, disappearing to explore a passage with another blue gem he had unwrapped from his robe. She sat down to eat, peeling back the plant's film on her lap and mixing what she had learned was the dark green syrup to sweeten the starchy center. The seeds clung to her fingers as she drew the portion into her mouth. This she enjoyed for seven or eight bites before Oliver returned.

He entered with something in his hand. Casey peered into his cupped palm to find an unpleasant surprise. There lay a small worm-like creature with a multiplicity of round, false pupils lining the sides of its exoskeleton.

She pulled away without voicing her disappointment and disgust.

"Only one of the eyes is real." He held the creeping creature toward her again. "Just one. Which one is it? Can you tell?" She gazed into his hand again, and began to study the ugly creature carefully.

"It has to be one of the ones at the front?"

"Touch them and see."

"I'm – I'm eating." Casey concentrated on her repast more dutifully, but looked up to see him entranced with the many-eyed arthropod. "You should eat, too, don't you think?" Oliver nodded briefly. "Does that mean you will?" she asked.

"I will eat." Yet, his attention was still on the bug. She watched as his finger tapped lightly at the side of the body. The shell-like façade of the false eye did not move.

"Have you tried the front ones?"

"Which is the front of him?" This perplexed her momentarily, and he grinned. "I've tested the eyes at both extremes. It is somewhere in the middle."

He tried another ocellus as Casey noticed how many choices were left. She turned her attention from the creature and drew a good amount of rusl into her hand. "Here." She offered Oliver the mass from her fingertips.

His attention was drawn away from the puzzle only briefly. He gave her no indication that he would eat it. Temptingly, she brought it nearer to his mouth. He looked on it, turning toward her ever so slightly, before lifting his quick eyes to hers.

"It is because you do not know my ways that I will not eat from your hand." His meaningful tone and expression made her blush. Without knowing what she had done, or what exactly was meant by her gesture, she knew there was some meaning related to the fact that he was male and she was female.

"Oh," said Casey, flustered. She pulled the rusl away, but he caught her hand, kissing the back of it while his eyes were on her face all the while. When he released her hand, he continued to watch her. She looked down at the food she was still holding and back to him; and, suddenly, she was just as uncomfortable eating in his presence the morsel which he had not accepted.

He placed the eyed creature on the floor of the cave and lifted the leaf from her lap. She watched him take his own portion in his hand, swirling the darker hue with the pale-tinted plant-flesh as she had done. He ate slowly. Even though she had not seen him eat the entire time she had been traveling with him, still he ate deliberately, as though nothing was to be taken for granted or rushed.

"Doesn't it taste good?"

"It has little taste to me," he told her. "I eat to be nourished." With no enthusiasm, he took another bite. She wondered at him, noting that his expression was one of concentration, giving no sense of enjoying the flavor or savoring the delight of eating. Did rusl taste so awful to him?

Turning away, she clandestinely supped on the bite coating her digits, wondering what line she had crossed, but deciding not to ask. The embarrassment she felt and the tension from him remained between them. With the stickiness of her repast still on her fingers, she reached toward the bug to give it a small tap. "Another dud," she remarked. "Are you sure there is a real eye?"

"It's a game I played as a boy. Finding the real one takes patience. It is best to decide on an order to follow." She tested each false eye in one row before Oliver stood. "We'll take the game with us," he told her, picking up the insect. "How is your ankle?"

"Sore."

He nodded. "I will carry you."

"No! I can still walk." She couldn't look directly at him. How long would these awkward feelings last? The more she wished the emotion to fade, the more it seemed to linger.

Upon entering a small chamber, she saw an opening to the outside above. The sky appeared grayish with very little light. She stood under it to assume a better view and a chilly current of air hit her. "It's cold out there!"

"The water has become crystallized. It falls in solid pieces now. This one was trying to find refuge." He motioned to the bug in his palm.

"I wonder what fake eyes are good for. They don't protect against hail," mused Casey.

"Hail?"

"Yeah, the ice outside." Then she smiled. "So, you _do_ have a sort of winter here!"

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**A/N: I'd really like to know what you think the one-eyed arthropod suggests. No, it's not going to become a main character in the story, but it hints at a small irony.**

**Amanda0991: Hi! "…is it a series of attached pieces…" The metal acts as a plate that holds the stones. The metal plates are small units pieced together and anchored to attachments placed beneath his skin. Between them are pieces of precious stone applied by cauterization to allow for expansion, contraction and flexibility. What's interesting is, people mangle themselves like this today. So, is it the fact that he had no choice in it that makes it monstrous? I'm delighted at your reviews! Thanks.**

**Delia Anole: Aw. I'm sorry I didn't get to read your first review, but thanks for writing the second! "It can be disappointing to run into no surprises... But it adds to one's pride." Ha! That's true. I never thought about that. "Have an excellent vacation... Mutter." Thanks! I did. :D**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Why is the monkey protecting his back?" This is how she knows him, and so she protects his back in the possessive sense. Hm. The word 'protect' may be too confusing. I'll work on that. I fixed 'mislead'. Thank you! You can tell I added that after my beta edited the chapter. :o}**

**Arista Everett June: "…really had Casey realize a whole lot...her own strength, her potential, and the true nature of her heart…" I think you're right. :) That was a cool Independence Day correlation! I planned it that way… uh… yeah.**

**Backroads: "…Ivan still manages to show up in her thoughts if only for comparative reasons." She greatly depended on Ivan. She's a very trusting individual, and yet she's had to become more cautious. Ivan distrusted her because of Stormie, comparing Casey's actions to hers. Casey must cope similarly.**

**EstrangeloEdessa: Oliver tells Casey that the wild ones consider the dragonflies mysterious and linked to the Karshra, though they don't know how they work (chapter 52). When he lived with the clans, Oliver was considered the one to fulfill a prophecy about conquering the dragon for them to return to their homeland (chapters 40 and 47). They were identifying him as the leader they expected him to be with the dragonfly wings on his back. I wasn't aware any holy muffins existed, perhaps 'holey' if you picked out the chocolate chips… *snicker***

**Iliana11: Even though you won't get to read this this week, just know I'm missing you and our conversations. I anticipated that Princess Bride quote! :D "Is Oliver the reason why others cannot leave?" No. There have been many before him who could not return home. Btw, he's lived there for 17 years which makes him older than 17. (Tidbit: Casey turned 16 on the day she saved Ivan's life.)**

**moscalover: Thanks for letting me know you like the story! "…it takes a lot of courage to write lo-o-ong stories…" It tests my patience, but I really thrive off the whole process. It makes me happy.**


	57. Day In Waiting

**A/N: Hieee! I'm back for the moment, though I doubt I'll be able to update again next Thursday. I'm still reeling from the move, getting used to the new town and all. I'll try to update with the next chapter in two weeks.**

_This chapter has not been beta-ed. Corrections are welcomed._

_Recap: Casey's following Oliver through the northern range of mountains, journeying to the place of the nymphs. She now understands that she's to become a nymph harbor and, by being one, will be able to return home in a matter of days. She made a faux pas by offering Oliver food from her hand, though she doesn't know what that gesture meant to him. Their relationship is becoming more blurred for her. She is experiencing his attraction to her while trying to sort out what she feels for him, finding it difficult to entrust her heart to him when his life-views and philosophy on authority disagree with hers._

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Chapter 57: Day In Waiting

After another hour of treading through the mountain, Casey became obstinately determined that she would not be carried. The feelings between them were stark against the relief of the incident of attempting to feed him the rusl. Yet, there was no word said by him to begin any discourse to remove it. In the midst of this confusing state of things, the conscious awareness she felt when his glance lingered created a pressing need to clear the air. She knew there was more meant by his touch than before; she even vaguely understood her misstep with the rusl had instigated it. Beyond that, she could not know without asking. It seemed sensible to speak; she had always felt free to say what she was thinking before, only this time a little voice sounded warning. Vaguely she perceived they would enter a new realm of understanding if she did, and something within her wasn't sure of the step.

She succumbed to the luxury of resting her head against his arm as they walked, hardly able to hold it up, so tired was she. Inside, her exhausted mind fought, contemplating the resistant little voice which told her to be cautious, reproaching it. Its whispers weren't distinct, and she refused to be placated by the mere premonition without knowing _why_ she felt it. Was there something wrong in speaking of this tension between them, of broaching what he had not? What would happen then? Her conscience wouldn't release her, but persisted in its plea for her to remain guarded.

Her pace grew slower and slower, and he halted to drink. "Are we taking another break?" she asked.

He gave her the water. "Yes. My strength is tried. We will rest a few hours."

"Hours? Don't we need to make the eastern boundary?"

"I judged by the times of my solitary trek along this path. I haven't taken it with another before."

"I am slowing us down."

"We will reach our destination. The lapse will matter very little."

"Oh! But, Oliver, I want to get there! I can walk some more."

"No. You have not heeded the signs of tiredness long enough. We will start again after you have slept. Take the reprieve; you will be stronger for it." She nodded, displeased but seeing he would not continue.

As she settled on the floor of the cavern, he bent to place the glowing blue gem beside her. "I will withdraw, that your sleep will not be disturbed." This was almost too much. Only hours ago had he not offered to keep watch beside her? Her face openly expressed her surprise, and the words, 'What's different between us?' were on her tongue. Yet, as he turned away, she could not bring herself to say them. Why wouldn't he explain what had changed? She watched the light of the second gem, resting in his hand, as it disappeared. She wanted to call after him, 'Won't you tell me what you are thinking?' Would he answer? What if he did tell her and it was something she didn't want to hear?

She longed to return to the old way of walking hand in hand in companionable silence. This sense of knowing there was a subject he wouldn't speak about was a burden. Did he consider his silence a means of concealing the change? Did he want things to remain the same, too? Maybe he thought she wasn't aware of it. Was it deceptive not to tell him she knew? Or was it worse to admit, 'I see there is something more. Please, confide in me.'

She curled up in a shallow vale between two clusters of jagged rocks. Tucking her knees close, she wished for a bed – a soft one with fragrant sheets and a pillow to put under her head once more. She was tired of awaking with a cricked neck and small bruises and pinches from shifting against uncomfortable crags. She considered again how the prince had not offered to be near her. Pressing her lips together in dissatisfaction, Casey closed her eyes. She entered a dreamless state, her mind at work on the conundrum.

She awoke with a start. Something had touched her face. She turned her head to find Oliver. "Time to go?" she asked, her vocal chords hardly registering a sound.

"Yes. You have slept long." He gave her a small smile as if to apologize that she could not sleep longer. The silent sorrow in his expression immediately reminded her of the problem which had vexed her before; and, there in that short breadth of time, staring into the prince's dark eyes, the reasons why she should not speak came to her. She was going home in four days! She would never see him again. What good would it do to know the depth of his mind? It would make it that much more difficult to leave him. Was this his purpose in remaining distant, as well? Did he refrain from explanations knowing he might be tempted not to let her go?

He asked after her ankle as he helped her to standing. "It's fine," she said, testing it. Inhaling purposefully, Casey told him, "I'm ready."

The urge to keep him had become stronger. She cherished his kindnesses so much. How could she repay that? Would he let her introduce him to the home she knew and understood? There he could know what it meant to live without a constant sense of danger where people dwelled with little thought of starving or outliving each other for one more day. Perhaps then she could care for him, shower adoration on him as he had shown to her. It was a delicious thought, one over which it was impossible to keep from smiling.

Her eyes lingered on his back while they walked. Her energy had returned, and Casey's mind felt at ease. She began to hum softly without realizing it, keeping time with her squeaking shoe. "What song are you singing?" he asked, and she stopped immediately.

"Oh - it's called _Bobby Shafto_. It's a nursery rhyme."

"I haven't heard you sing before."

"I haven't felt like it before," she gave a short laugh. "It's strange; knowing how soon I'll be home changes things." She hesitated, then added, "Home is very different from here. I miss the sunshine in the afternoons, and the sunsets, when the colors streak across the clouds. You ought to see it."

"I have seen the sun."

"Oh, I know. I read about that, but – well, I wish you could see _my_ sun."

"You own it, do you?"

"No," she laughed. "I just meant – oh, you know what I meant."

They soon stopped to partake of the last rusl leaf. As she ate, she considered how filling it was; it had sustained her far longer than the usual berries and other fruits. Once the meal was completed, Oliver tore open the empty bluish-green stem to feed the ocelli-covered creature, and Casey found herself caught up in the game he played, testing the surface of the bug as it ate. She lifted the portion of the plant the arthropod was devouring and it held on with desperation. She quickly caught it in her hand, and was pleased to find the little being's soft undersides tickled. She carried it as they began to walk again, frequently peering into her palm to see how the insect was faring.

She began her campaign once more, speaking of the fruits and vegetables she ate at home before remembering Oliver wasn't at all intrigued by the flavor of food. She had forgotten that. She considered speaking on the bugs of her homeland, but that wasn't all that appealing to her. She could do without the bugs, after all.

The passage ended, and Oliver led them out of the mountain. He seemed more wary of their surroundings. Casey found the atmosphere bitingly cold. Frosty wafts of tiny snowflakes flittered down, falling in random clumps to the ground. It barely lit before it melted. The soil had remained slick and saturated with the water. They skirted large pools while wading in calf-deep pits of mud through well-soaked areas. Her ankle tired swiftly under the toil of lifting and sinking repeatedly.

They came to a solitary patch of trees, and he helped her drink the liquid gliding down the enormous green leaves before refilling the water container. She wandered before him into a cave which he had directed them toward. She found the fingers of the passages all ended in the same chamber. There was no outlet. "Rest here. I will return," he said; and, though apprehension ran through her at being separated from him, she did not ask to follow. She felt the gnawing of hunger pains and the frigid dampness of her clothes, and expected that he would return with sustenance. Shivering, she situated herself in view of the aperture of the shelter. There the rocks were covered in moss, and she placed her little crawling friend beside her. Watching him intently, she rested her head against a thickly-carpeted stone. The bug explored the surface of his dwelling and snacked on the short, hair-like vegetation. "At least you've found food," she told it and sighed. Her breath blew over the bug and a small lid flittered open, made a quick scan and closed again. Casey sat up with astonishment, wide-eyed at the discovery, and laughed. The blithe sound of her voice was strange to her in the empty recess, and she took in the hazy expanse beyond the cave where a brume-shaded forest lay far, far in the distance. She studied the sky and knew that the second night had ended and day had come.

In spite of being very cold, she dozed off to have Oliver wake her shortly. "Oh, it's time already." It was an effort to move; her limbs were less enthusiastic than her mind to continue. Yet, he did not rise. He sat beside her, his hand on the rock where her head had been. She rubbed her eyes sleepily.

"It is time you are aware: we are being followed. We must soon travel in the open. It will be impossible to keep out of sight once we cross the last peak to journey southward. If I find opportunity to challenge the one who hunts us, I will take it."

"You mean, you will kill him."

"That is not the reason I'm telling you this. You must be ready to travel on your own. I will reunite with you after I have seen to the Gread. But, yes, Casey; I will kill him." He stood then with the warning of what they faced beyond the mountain's shelter lingering in the silence. This had been enough to wake Casey fully to the situation. Still, as they ventured out, she wished there had been time to find nourishment. Later, she realized she had left her many-eyed friend behind.

Dreone's day-in-waiting for the Viliath was strange. The light shifted through the low-lying fog in a way that made the rays seem oddly indiscernible from the grayish cloud-cover that hovered over the land in readiness. There were no beams or shafts of illumination that broke through the thick mantle, and the mist crowded above their heads.

They began to descend from the height of the range, weaving around and between the higher elevations. She stuck to Oliver's path precisely, as he moved lithely, going ahead at times and retracing his steps to meet her. She knew he was watching for the one who was tracking them; his eyes were lit with an exhilaration that turned her empty stomach. She saw the rush of pleasure the crisis brought to which he gave all measure of attention. He brought them to a tunnel, the walls smoothed out and gleaming. As they walked the open channel, the prince halted suddenly. He turned to her and touched his hand to his mouth, a signal not to make a noise.

He was listening and she strained her ears to hear the sounds he had heard. She finally caught a muffled series of random clops. Oliver was satisfied with this and drew her to the side. "Stay here," he whispered in her ear very quietly.

Casey's heart dropped in dread as the mist pervading the tunnel swallowed him. Was this the one opportunity, come so soon? What if he challenged the Gread hunter and was defeated? She had no means of defending herself; and, even if she'd had some weapon – like Ivan's Glader – it was hard to imagine how it would do any good. Still, she had to admit, she would not have hesitated to follow Ivan's directions and aim for the throat of the one who came to capture or kill her.

She didn't dare move at all, but waited anxiously for Oliver to return, finding she was holding her breath. The wait was centuries. She heard nothing, which made the appearance of a large murky shadow, emerging out of the fog, more disturbing.

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**A/N: I asked you guys what the bug with the eyes might mean in the last chapter. Your responses were pretty cool! I think you thought about it more intently than I did. It was revisiting the principle which Oliver translates in chapter 43: **_"Untruth cloaks itself in truth."_** He played this game of the eyes as a boy – trying to find the one true means of sight for the bug – but is not convinced that truth is knowable, seeable.**

**To all reviewers: I *love* hearing your thoughts on the story, but I cannot in good conscience respond to reviews that contain foul language. For some reason, the profanity filter isn't filtering. (Didn't it used to filter the reviews?) I care about guarding my heart and guarding the hearts of my readers. Please help me by keeping your reviews profanity-free.**

**Lady Thorne: "the bug indicates that there are a bunch of methods to escape Dreone that Casey has thought of, but only one is viable?" Oh, that's clever. Is there only one viable way to escape?**

**Delia Anole: "The 'and' after cool and before walking... Should that be a 'but'?" You've probably forgotten about this question already, but here's what I meant: Together, the coldness of the water and the weight of the water in her clothes caused her shivering fatigue. "It is obvious enough that Casey likes Oliver. Does he like her?" He's told her in various ways that he likes her, I think. I can't make a chapter go on forever, but I'm beginning to believe I can write a story that does. :D**

**EstrangeloEdessa: Hey, Strange Jello! Yes, 'underfed' **_**is**_** better, only the sentence ended, "to bear up under," so that didn't sound right. I've changed it to 'ill-nourished,' though. Many thanks for bringing it to my attention. Yeah, arthropods aren't worms; they just have the segmented wormy look. Aack! I've written about a creature that is asymmetrical! My o/c nature is causing me spasms now. Thanks for that. lol**

**Backroads: "…the first few paragraphs. They were rather redundant in things we already know." Did the story previously tell you those things, or did you extrapolate using your own experiences and deductive reasoning? Not everyone comes to the same conclusions when given the same information, so I thought it would be good to establish Casey's viewpoint. At least, I don't think her thoughts have been expressed this clearly anywhere else. ?**

**Iliana11: Must have been a glitch. :( Sorry. It's fixed now, right?  
**

**Hazelcloud: Thanks for all the catch-up reviews! "The bug pretends that it can see all of the ways, but really it has only one point of view" That is great! I really like that.**

**Arista Everett June: "I thought of the dragon though for no apparent reason (doesn't he have one eye?)" Kapyn has two eyes. He has to look at Casey close up from the side. There is a filler-feel in the chapters as they travel, which I loathe, but there's important plot info I'm attempting to bring to light.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "So Dreone is an island?" Dreone is the valley in an elevated region. Think of a crater. A stream flows around the walls of that crater toward Drakkytbet. Before coming to Drakkytbet, the stream pours down into Dreone, mixing with the Ebydd, which flows out of Drakkybet into Dreone.** **"Is maturation accelerated in Dreone or are these a special type of dragonfly?" They have to be special; they transport folks to another world and all. :D **_**Limited time offer: Get your Dreone dragonfly nymph for 19.95 and we'll throw in "Understanding the Molting Process of a Dreone Dragonfly", a hardbound edition valued at 24.95, for absolutely FREE!**_** (Yeah, I'm still not quite right after the move.)** **"Was he lying, or does this mean he has the ability to have them transport him to Casey's world?" He is telling Casey he has the ability to have them transport him to Casey's world. "Finding what is true and real is only a game to Oliver." O-o, that's a great theory!**

**blaar: I've been so scatterbrained, I forgot this was the last Thursday in Aug. Your review prompted this update. Thx**


	58. The Balancing Act

**A/N: Look for another update next Thursday! I hit a writing jag, and have stocked up a few chapters. My beta is still having computer trouble, but was able to give this a read-through and comment corrections. (Thank you, Tater748!) If you see more items which need correcting, please tell me.**

_Recap: Casey is being guided by the Dragonfly Prince through the northern range of Dreone with the knowledge she'll be on her way home in approximately four days. She is torn about growing closer to Oliver because she feels affection for him, but knows she has to leave him if she can't persuade him to come with her. He informs her they are being followed by a hunter, and she might have to go on without him, meeting up later. After hearing something, he tells her to stay in a natural tunnel in the mountain. She considers what she would do to defend herself, when a large shadow looms before her in the mist._

Chapter 58 – The Balancing Act

She would have run, if Oliver's figure had not become swiftly discernible. Her eyes traveled to the large animal which he gripped by the flaxen and tawny strands at its neck. It was tall as a horse, but its bearded face was a goat's with two horns which extended from the head, curving to the sides. It bleated coarsely, not wishing to be detained; but Oliver would not release it.

"I'm not getting on that," precipitated Casey. She was too shaken by the trial of his absence and sudden appearance to wait for an explanation.

"Do not fight this, Casey."

Learning her assumption had been correct, she immediately became defensive. "No way."

"You know the dangers. She is tame and will take you to the stream at the eastern boundary. I will find you there." He bent toward her, and before Casey realized it, he was picking her up. The urge to kick, scream and rebel was fomenting through her veins. She even placed her hands over his, which embraced her waist, to pry them away; but then chose to comply. She knew he wanted to keep her safe. She had trusted him this far. On a range of mountains, from which she could not find her way down alone, there was no turning back.

She was set upon the downy back of the goat-like creature. Oliver placed within her hand the gathered fist-full of the long, silken wool. "Hold her at the neck firmly," he told her as she gripped the hair. Then he spoke to the animal, "There's a calm doe."

He untied the belt at his waist and circled it around the beast's neck, giving her the reins. "Tuck your legs against her sides. Let her know you're with her." He pressed Casey's leg to the animal as he instructed her. "Lean back when she's going down to keep your balance."

The last look he gave her was not one of confidence. She responded with a similar expression, not at all convinced that she would be able to stay aloft. "To Eripe (Ay-ree-pay) with you," he said with a push. Casey's body shifted under the immediate motion, and she tried to gain a better hold with her thighs. Her legs thumped loosely at the animal's sides. She felt sure she'd slide off.

The muted tip-tapping of the wooly hooves began to slow as they came to the end of the tunnel. She felt the moisture cover her face. The snow had stopped, and now the precipitation which met all things open to the elements chilled her arms and forehead.

She completely forgot about the temperature of Dreone in an instant, as the horned animal lowered Casey toward a scene which froze the blood in her veins. They were staring down one of the steepest cliffs she had ever witnessed. It was far more prepossessing than any ledge-stumbling view along the gorge had been. There wasn't enough time for her to leap off the side of her transportation, for the doe didn't wait to consider the route. She was thrown forward, bouncing with the rapidity of the steps as the doe made six or seven paces before Casey's seat came down with a thud. She closed her eyes, her breath taken from her. Her panicked reaction was to loop her arms around the goat-creature's neck, but that means of holding on was quickly abandoned. Instead, she reached out to grip a horn tightly, pulling the animal's head up, and thought matter-of-factly on her immediate demise. The burdened beast bleated a complaint as she slid forward. Casey clung with all her might in an attempt to keep from falling off. Suddenly, the doe leapt upward, and Casey fell back, the leather straps yanking taut. Desperately, she tried to reposition herself while her seat was level before her ride pitched at a faster cant toward the distant ground again. This time Casey pressed back and tried to counter the steep angle, before the doe bounded upward abruptly. Shifting her weight, she perceived the path of their travels. Instead of skirting the bluffs, they were traveling directly along the jagged edge of the mountain.

When they made it to the next precipice, Casey exhaled in relief and stared across the region to find what seemed to be an endless expanse of similar bluffs. With sinking heart, she slumped down against the doe, mumbling, "I'm never going to make it." The goat-like head turned sideways and gave her a nicker of admonishment, as though to say, "Don't pity yourself."

The doe became more sedate after finding her unwelcome load would deter her from her usual briskly tripping gait along the rocks. She adopted a meandering pace, giving up the steep steps for shallow ones, and Casey began to think she might make it to the other side in one piece. She was soon able to tell whether the next step would be up or down by the motion of the doe's head beforehand. At times Casey pulled the reins too hard, and the beast bleated in protest, almost halting.

The eastern boundary was taking on definition as they approached. It curved to the right in a line of endless peaks and shadows. The air around her was thinning and growing steadily warmer. Ribbons of light were casting another brilliant bow which smoothed and wrinkled its dazzling colors. Night was coming, and Casey was losing perception of the distant plains below in the wavering mist.

Far, far away a crystal strain rang out, surely human but so incredibly manic that Casey's hair stood on the back of her neck as it echoed over the cliffs. Her mind wanted to reason through what the cause of that cry could be, but no conclusion was a pleasant one. The prince had found the hunter and one of them had caused that shrill sound. She tucked herself to the doe in response, pursing her lips in determination to keep her focus.

"_Eripe,"_ Oliver had said. What was Eripe? Was it the nymph place? She was so close - so close to going home! She would not lose hope mid-journey. Going forward was the only way to get back. It had to be, else it would all be for – No, she couldn't think like that. She had come so far, following Oliver, trusting him. He had protected her! She pictured him triumphant, the Gread she had seen in the Death Cove lying prostrate at his feet. She shuddered at how the image comforted her. Surely Oliver could not have been the one who'd cried out!

The doe began to gather speed. She attempted to rein her in with a timid, "Whoa. Whoa now." Her ride wasn't compliant, and bolted down the side of the mountain swiftly, leaving the rider to grasp at neck, wool and horns for dear life. Down the hooves came before the roaring hum met her ears. Pixies! Casey lost her balance as the doe bounded headlong, but her arms were still wound by the leather straps. Casey was dragged backwards, while trying her best to unwrap her hands. Her head rammed into a rock while her arms continued, twisting irregularly above her head. She heard two snaps. One was Oliver's belt whipping round; the other was her wrist. She slid between two boulders like a ragdoll, landing near the base of the mountain before fainting.

When she awoke, her head felt ten times its size, throbbing as she lay. Her muscles were cramped and stiff. She stared at the sky listlessly. The clouds were above her, encircling the mountains whose tips rose up through brume. They were renaissant madonnas robed in kirtles vivid like sheets of heated copper, reflecting the spectrum of colors.

She couldn't seem to catch her breath. The atmosphere was so thin with a mind-numbingly strong, minty scent. She just couldn't breathe in fully! Her one attempt to sit up failed, when she moved her injured wrist and experienced paroxysmal shock from the pain. Carefully, she picked up the strap still wrapped around her wounded arm, lifting it to wrap it around her neck like a sling. She was gasping both from the pain and the lack of oxygen. Her hand and the joint, feeling puffy and tender, were visible swollen.

A vapor of condensation moved across her face as she inhaled desperately. The air within wasn't as pressing and she took in deeply of the passing pocket. Did she need to stay near the clouds to breathe? A wispy streak of pale green caught the corner of her eye. Turning her head toward it, she espied a forest of dark, verdant shades close by with voluminous pillows of mist trapped between the low branches. Like an august archway it beckoned to her.

She stared at the trees longingly and felt the cloud around her disperse. Her head swam as she breathed in the pungent air once more. Twice, puffs hued like the wings of a lunar moth crossed her vision as she attempted to stand. Was she seeing stars, caused by the effort of righting herself? She slowly gained a standing position and found taking a step was like slicing through a heavy troposphere. She strained against her fatigue-weighted limbs to make for the canopy of trees, finding no respite from the pain the motions of her trek caused her arm.

Just as she stepped into the folds of the peaceful entrance, an indigo pixie buzzed into her face. It spoke in a language she did not comprehend. Yet, she was oblivious; her head spinning wildly as she fell against a trunk and dropped to the ground, whimpering.

"Ah," uttered the gravelly, but miniature male voice. "I can glean her scent now. She is most definitely human. Where is the one who calls himself the Dragonfly Prince?" he demanded sharply. "Does he think to pass through the territories of Bloomfield and Briartamer unimpeded? I should like him to try; indeed, I should like to see his progress!"

"Go away," muttered Casey, not sure whether she was seeing more than one pixie.

It spoke to her in an unknown tongue, repeating the same syllables again and again. Though Casey could not understand it, she knew it was derisive.

The pixie's oscillating wings became a loud, low thrumming; and from the forest around, the ominous noise grew thicker. "Where is the Dragonfly Prince?" The voice was coarse, threatening.

"I don't know," answered Casey, closing her eyes to the spinning which met them.

"She lies."

The sounds of the army of pinions were getting closer. She hoped the pixies were coming to bite her. It would finally relieve the unbearable pain she was enduring.

"Get up, human!" demanded the small voice vehemently. "Call for your prince!"

She didn't answer and didn't move as the pixie buzzed around her face fiercely.

"No!" She tried to yell forcefully to incite him to bite her. It was only a weak whisper to her ears.

A penetrating sting went through her body, but it wasn't a bite. Her interrogator was using a branch to prod her shoulder. "She's awake. She must come with us!" How long had she been out? She moved slightly. "Weeds and worms, she's a wily one. Zenia (Zay-nee-ah) will deal with her."

"Zikchus! The mouth of the Briartamers approaches!" The loud pinions around her drew away.

Moments later she heard a familiar, commanding voice. "Zikchus! Brother! What is this?"

"Brother! I have caught the human who travels with _him_."

"Yes, Zikchus. This one is known to us, but she is of no concern. It is only the Dragonfly Prince we seek." Was this the Briartamer pixie who had spoken at the reservoir?

"Ah, but he will come for her."

"Zikchus, his wish is to distract us with this one. Have your scouts seen any signs from the mountains?"

"They have not. He remains hidden."

"Tis his way. Still, you must keep watch; he is close. And, what is your thought for this human?"

"Zenia wishes to use her as bait."

"Nonsense. Can you not see he has left her to fend for herself? What would you do with her once you found he would not come? You would have to feed her. Humans are always eating; don't you know that?"

"Ah, Ziad, my brother. Why would I feed the human?"

Ziad laughed. "Zikchus, you old scoundrel. Not feed a human? Here? Well, then, take her, starve her, and then what? None of the other tribes will remove rotting human once the stench sets in. You'll be wretched in days of that happening."

"You wouldn't, Ziad?"

"No. What a horrible thing a dead human is! That's why we leave them for the tribes near the rushing waters. They must have the task of it. Terrible, disgusting things these dead humans! You should get rid of this one while she's alive. I'll take her, as long as she's not dead."

"You are very kind, Briartamer. How long can a human not be fed before she dies?"

"It varies," answered Ziad, winging around Casey for examination. "This one… I'd give her a day, maybe two. She looks uncommonly starved as it is. I'd say she hasn't eaten in quite a bit. Ah, and she is broken. Death will come sooner-"

Zikchus' wings buzzed anxiously. "Oh, no! But what will Zenia say? Our mouth has been told we have captured the thing! Oh, no! Oh, no! I don't want her. She's ever so skinny. Why didn't I notice that?" Casey could tell by his wings that Zikchus was in a tizzy of indecision.

Ziad spoke in the tones of solemnity which she recalled the first time she had heard him speak at the pixies' reservoir. There was something about his speech that made his words sound so reasonable and kindly. "Zenia is most respected, but how long has it been since she has seen a human here? My brother, do you not think her curiosity rather than wisdom brought her to plan such a thing?"

"But, she is our mouth-,"

"Indeed. I have no right to question the _aged_ Bloomfield, Zenia. Surely, you should take the human…"

"No! Oh, Ziad, I beg you hurry! Take her before she dies and stinks. Awful, smelling thing."

"Very well, my brother. I will take the burden, and I will never speak to the other tribes of the deed that the Briartamer tribe takes for the Bloomfields."

"You are so kind to me, brother!"

It felt like an era had passed before she was rolled unto some sort of lift which dragged along the ground. She moaned as the motion refreshed her agony. Her eyelids were too heavy to lift. The forced air across her head told her pairs of pixie wings hovered near, but they remained silent. The vehicle was descending, and later she heard the constant sussurrations of passing through leafy vegetation, the chirrups of crickets and the calls of other small insects. Frogs were croaking, and their symphony overtook the slighter noises as they continued.

"Zarnyc, put the bloom to her lips that she does not know the face of our dwelling," she heard Ziad instruct. The sharp aroma from the base of the mountain flooded her nostrils; and her mind, so keen to know and learn what was happening, fell into senseless torpor.

* * *

**A/N: For some reason, I hear "On the Trail" from Grofé's **_**Grand Canyon Suite**_** during Casey's journey. *shrug***

**Iliana11: "…I can kind of tell that this is a filler chapter." What? Didn't you notice I loathe filler chapters? Labeling it "filler" will jinx my writing abilities! Aaack! Tell me it wasn't one, quick! :D How about the club name, **_**Hug Oliver And Ivan**_**? HOAI, for short; but it isn't short when you consider 'hoai' in Vietnamese means 'always' or 'eternal.' A little trivia there. Yes, I'm in Research Nerd mode. These chapters are really only half a chapter or less in real-book layout. It's less than 29 chapters. To which you should promptly exclaim, **_"You mean I'm waiting for half a chapter?"_

**Delia Anole: "I was really sad when she left the bug behind... It's as though she forgot it, along with all of her other lessons." Very, very perceptive! But, it's not the lessons of her time in Dreone she's in danger of forgetting. You had me looking up 'bellicose'. Yay for the vocab lesson! Oliver's always been rather confrontational, argumentative. He's angry, but he has a different approach from Ivan's, doesn't he? Thanks for your encouraging words about moving and writing!**

**Quiet Mindreader: I'm excited every time I update, too. It means I'll be hearing from you! Oliver would know Ivan was no hunter if he had been following them.** **"…would a Gread - a trained warrior - make random clopping sounds as he walked?" :D Nope. Thanks for the correction. I changed it.**

**Amanda0991: "I do miss his rudeness compared to the Prince's sometimes nauseating kindness." Lol! Ivan's rudeness is superior to Oliver's kindness. Hm. This chapter wasn't so dramatic, but it had its ups and downs. (Oh, that was a terrible joke.) Thanks for being patient with me, even though it made you sad.**

**EstrangeloEdessa: Another vote for an epic Ivan/Oliver battle. Is there a club for this yet? Sorry your brain is fried. It's probably suffering from the muffins being beaten out. You seem to have so many muffins at your disposal; it must be terrible to have them rent from you so mercilessly. I respond with these zany thoughts because I know you get my quirky sense of humor. :) I appreciate that about you.**

**Arista Everett June: No! Not "filler" again! Did I call it a filler somewhere? *checking* Ah, "filler-feel" is what I said. Oh, well. Filler chapter it was, then. What makes you think we'll see Ivan again?**

**Hazelcloud: "Ivan maybe? Although I have no idea how he could have followed them…" Yeah, it would be pretty impossible. He doesn't know his way around like Oliver does.**


	59. Talking with a Briartamer

_Recap (because EE says they help her): Oliver sent Casey to Eripe on a goat-like animal, but she didn't make it there and broke her wrist. She is now with the Briartamer pixies._

* * *

Chapter 59 – Talking with a Briartamer

She wasn't certain whether she had slept. All was dark but for a few shadowy shafts of light coming from some unknown aperture above. The rushing of a waterfall nearby beat its rhythm tirelessly. She wanted to turn off all the noise to ease her aching head. At first, she hurt too greatly to move; and before she had gained the strength to try, two pixies entered bringing light with them.

"Look, Ztehh (Ztay-heh)! Her eyes have opened!" The speaker was quite small with delicate features.

"Keep your distance. Remember, they are deceptive," warned Ztehh. With unfeigned curiosity, the smaller pixie held three small toothpick-like sticks toward her where three lumins clung, trapped by a sticky resin at the tips and giving off frenzied glows as they tried to free themselves. Casey drew her aching head away from the brilliant glare, inadvertently flinching the muscles in her wrist. Her immediate cry of pain caused the tiny creature's wings to skitter in the air at the sound.

She clinched her teeth and tried to get out, "Am I with the Briartamers?" The miniature pixie trembled visibly on seeing Casey's return stare. Yet, Casey felt no reciprocal interest; pixies had shown themselves to be less than friendly time and again.

"Indeed," spoke Ztehh. "Our tribe's mouth will soon speak with the human."

"Is there any food? I am extremely hungry."

"She is to speak with the Briartamer, Ziad," was repeated.

"How long will that be?" She had grown accustomed to the gnawing in her belly, but recalled Ziad's words about feeding humans. Pixies did not relish keeping her kind alive.

"Soon. Come, Zumzum."

"Oh, Ztehh, must we leave now? She is so interesting," cajoled Zumzum, as she was shooed upwards. "I've never seen a human closely. Such a big face!" continued she, obediently winging past Casey's head. Looking above, as the lumin prisoners illuminated their exit, Casey saw the shadowy roof continue to narrow until the pixies flew out of sight.

"Oh, please don't leave!" she called to them tardily when she found the darkness steal over her.

Yet, shortly, she perceived another light that began to brighten the way above. The pixies were coming back already!

Ziad Briartamer was one of them; she recognized him at once, having studied him in a state of near-stillness at the reservoir. He had a round face with eyes that slanted toward his nose. His hairless crown was a lighter tint of green, making it seem overlarge. He wore a shiny, clip-like piece on his left wing.

"Casey, friend of the Dragonfly Prince, there are many words we must exchange."

"I am too tired to talk. Please give me food first," she answered dully.

Ziad made no argument and the order was given to bring sustenance. The items which were served consisted of a berry or two at a time, and were dropped upon the floor of her cell hurriedly. She crawled to them cringing in pain with each movement, scrabbling with her good hand to consume the morsels. She could not be appeased fast enough; and the pixies took their time in replenishing the floor with more to eat.

She was by no means full when the mouth of the Briartamer tribe sent the food bearers away. Only he remained, the light from the entrapped lumins causing his face to take on strange dimensions of shadow. "Why have you remained in this side of Dreone?"

His solemn, straightfoward question startled her. She had expected to be interrogated on the whereabouts of the prince, and had never expected him to address her directly!

"I - I don't know. I mean, I want to go back home." Why did this pixie care to know her reasons?

"Why do you follow Oliver, Casey?"

Again he shocked her. He seemed to know her, to know Oliver. She didn't know what she should answer.

"I think I know." He sighed. "I have studied you while at the rock of the Fleshgatherer tribe. Though you have been a great trial to them, I do not think you mean harm." He did not seem to have the fear his kind had shown to her in Dreone. Was it possible he was not so repulsed by humans? By her?

"Then why-?" began Casey.

"But," he continued, his small black eyes on hers, "even those who do not think of harming do not bring to us safety nor peace." She held her tongue, waiting for what he would say, hoping to know what he wanted with her. "Consider the trespass of the daughter of Zbori Fleshgatherer. She has been wing-torn for her actions in obtaining Zource from the place which is forbidden to the pixie. Yet, she could do nothing else but what her tribesmen decreed to be law: she was forced to obey the wishes of the Dragonfly Prince. He brought her to do the treacherous deed because of you, to provide aid for you.

"He delights in keeping you safe, does he not? You have been protected many, many times because of the Dragonfly Prince, yes?" Casey looked down, reluctant to admit even the simplest truth to one she did not trust.

"Why has he brought you this far into our lands?"

"Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Because he has offered you something irresistible, but I doubt whether he can fulfill what he has promised."

Her indignation flared. "He doesn't lie to me. Pixies are the liars!"

"Are we? Do we populate your world and drive you from your land? Do we bring our fierce giants to breathe their fire upon your homes?"

It took a moment for Casey to understand his meaning. "Are you talking about dragons? Dragons don't come from my world!"

"You are either very ignorant or very shrewd." He studied her face. "I think you are ignorant."

"Join the club," she retorted.

"If you wish for me to discuss the conditions of your release, show by your actions that you acknowledge the privilege of speaking with a Briartamer. You are accustomed to speaking frowardly and without any understanding. It is most unappealing. You teach your tongue no wisdom; it will be your undoing, child.

"Now, I have a task for you. You will discover, if you hear and do not muddle your head with foolishness, that it will benefit you, as well as the tribes. It is this: Remove the shield from the Dragonfly Prince that we may deal the justice due him."

She slowly shook her head as he continued. "The way to make him vulnerable is to take from him his armor – the covering he wears when he is among us."

"I will not let you kill him."

"I will not kill him. I have no interest in his demise, as other tribes do."

"What do you want to do to him then, Ziad Briartamer?" she asked, attempting to address him respectfully.

"Return him to his kind, where he will be tried."

"That seems very nice of you, seeing how he-,"

"I know the delicate position of Dreone. You know nothing of this, but Oliver knows. He knows and he hides, seeking asylum where he does not belong."

Something rang true in what Ziad was saying. She knew Oliver was hiding. Yet, she remembered what Oliver had said, that the Zourcezervers were the only tribe he respected. This Briartamer was confusing her terribly. "Who is he hiding from, Ziad Briartamer?"

"He hides from those he has deceived. That is enough for you to know. He continues to hide behind his lies; he has used his lies to entangle you, Casey. I know you are not of the ones beyond the rushing waters. I know you seek to return to your home. It remains a mystery why the Dragonfly Prince, who is not like you, has helped you. Why do you listen to a savage, who dresses his words in comely terms and gives to you false hope?

"I don't know," whispered Casey. Was this pixie really trying to help her or shatter her loyalty to Oliver?

"Has he promised you a return to your home through the way in Kapyn's mountain?" She nodded guilelessly.

"I thought it was so." Ziad sighed. "Do you know what he wants with you? Why has he chosen you to deceive? There is the other one, the one with the serpent."

"Ivan?"

"Yes. He has been in Dreone for nearly a season, and the Dragonfly Prince has not once tried this trickery with him." His gaze was very insistent as the steady strokes of his wings held him before her. "Why you?"

Her heart began to sink as she answered, "Maybe because he knew I would believe him, and Ivan wouldn't." She wished she could shut her ears and refuse to listen to his fatherly tone, but these were the very things she had doubted about Oliver all along.

"I thank you. You have been truthful with me. Now I do not regret speaking to you in the familiar."

Pointedly, he told her, "You cannot return to your homeland now." He watched for her reaction only briefly. "Nor are you of the wild ones." He shook his head. "Indeed, you are not meant for such a place. No, you must go to the mountain of the North to find your people."

"The mount- you mean Drakkytbet?"

The motion of Ziad's wings expressed his surprise. "Has he spoken to you of the humans who dwell there?

She shook her head. "I can't remember. I know the dragons go there."

"Oh, no. No, not in the cities." He eyed her carefully, adding, as though speaking to himself, "I can't understand why Kapyn has not taken you already."

"I didn't want to go! I want to go home. There has to be some way!"

"No. There isn't."

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**A/N: Is your expression glum after this? What are your impressions of Ziad? (Do you remember him from chapter 10?)**

**EstrangeloEdessa: "'She had trusted him this far.' Mistake! Mistake!" Poor Casey finds herself forced to put more trust in Oliver, even though she hasn't ever really decided about him. Glad you picked up on that.** **(about Eripe) "And if she wasn't so foolishly besotted with him …, she would have thought to ask." There was also the urgency in getting her clear of the dangerous hunter. There really wasn't time to tell her about Eripe. It is a watering place for the qereqo (kay-ray-koh), the goat-like creatures.** **(mouth of a tribe) "I'm guessing this is some respectful term given to the head pixie in the tribe" You've got it precisely.**

**Delia Anole: "I'm not sure that this is a Humor/Romance story." The humor has taken a backseat, eh? That's what comes of following 'NaNo' whims. Should I change it to fantasy/romance? It is a love story; it just has a different approach. ****"I find it impossible to think he WILL take Casey to her destination." So, where is he taking her? There's a muffin/brownie war? *checks muffin ammo inventory* Where do I enlist?**

**Iliana11: My chapters aren't the same length as in books because it is more difficult to read that length of a chapter online. There are talented writers who post lengthy updates on ffn. I find myself asking, "Do I really have time to read another chapter that long?" Then I don't click on the next one. So, it's partly psychological. 'Keep the first chapters five pages or less' is my general rule. This chapter is around seven pages.  
**

**Arista Everett June: "…is there tea time in Dreone?" Oh! There really ought to be! With the novel variety of leaves to choose from, Dreone teas would be tasty. What about different flavors like, 'Kapyn's red tea' and 'Zource-bright white tea'? Maybe 'Asander root nighttime tea' and 'Pixie pucker tea' - which is bitter, but great with a little nectar added. Okay, I'll quit. "… while we stuff Oliver in a big brown box…" You're not too pleased with Oliver are you? I'm guessing especially not after this chapter.** **"Doth this sooth thine writer's heart?" Yes. *relieved sigh* Receiving your sweet reviews soothes my heart, too, dearest.**


	60. Caught in the Web

Chapter 60 – Caught in the Web

"But – Oliver said he would take me to the place of the nymphs to become a nymph harbor, and then… Then I would be able to summon the dragonflies to take me home." Her eyes pleaded to be told it was possible, but he shook his head patiently.

"If the dragonflies could take humans home, why is Oliver here and not returned now?"

This was a death knell to her arguments. Weakly, she countered one last time, "But, he's seen my world. He's spoken of things – like storms there! He's been there. He has!"

"He has been to Drakkytbet where the humans tell stories of these things."

As Casey's shoulders slumped, Ziad told her. "You have much to consider; and, yet, there is more I must say to you: Your Ivan is with Oliver's kind. They have taken him prisoner."

"No!"

"We can free him, if you will help us."

"By removing Oliver's cloak, you mean? I can't. I don't know where he is!" Casey felt the waves of desperation crashing over her. Ivan was alive, but for how long? Or was this Briartamer only hood-winking her to do what he wished?

"I know your destination now. I will see that you are led there to find Oliver."

Casey exhaled, attempting to sort through what Ziad had told her. "But what happens if I get the robe from him? What are you going to do?"

"We will return him to his people."

"He doesn't belong with them! And how do I know the pixies won't just bite him to death?"

"I will not allow it."

"How can you stop them? You're only the mouth-,"

"Again, these are matters which cannot be explained to you, for they began many ages past."

"Why can't you just let the Greads take him with the cloak on?"

"The cloak protects him from the weapons of the Gread as well as the pixies' bite. He is strong, and they will have a greater chance to overpower him."

"What if I won't do it?"

"You know the answer to that, though I do not think you have considered the danger to yourself. He has some purpose for you. If you do not fulfill it... your fate may be as Ivan's rests now."

Ivan's fate. His words were like Oliver's. Ivan couldn't die. He just couldn't!

"I will leave you to consider this," he added abruptly; and, without another word, away the old pixie flew. Still hungry, she was left to ponder so much, wondering when she would be set free, while dreading the decision which had to be made.

She finally fell asleep as the day lifted its heavy lids upon the valley, affording a few narrow shafts of hazy light far above the empty chamber where she sat, secluded for many hours. She awakened time and again to reconsider the things she had been told. Yet, no amount of rest could clear her head to see through to the truth. She didn't know whose story to believe.

A thunderous thud shook the ground beneath her, and she awoke again with a start. Some huge creature was approaching. She held her breath. What was happening? The quaking steps ceased, and she could hear tittering sounds of pixie voices. What was going to happen to her? Was she going to be threatened – or worse: squashed - by whatever was outside?

She drew away from the sides of her prison as the walls shuddered and made terrible cracking and scraping sounds. She perceived they were being lifted, as beams of light raced unto view from the base of her small chamber. The inside of her prison, a hollowed out tree which had been driven down tightly around the perimeter of a flat stone, was now viewable as it was taken upward. The tree-carcass swayed above, and she blinked as she took in the assembly surrounding her. There were pixies of various pale green hues. The biggest elephant she had ever seen was lifting her imprisoning arbor. Covered in snowy white fur with long, twisting tusks, the creature's eyes were shielded with a satithril cloth which resembled a ruffle, a frilly decoration for the wooly beast. Gathering her limp limb to her heart, she scrambled from the large plateau which had been the floor of her prison while the tree hovered dangerously above.

Before a great waterfall, which plunged down into a shallow basin and overflowed the surrounding pastureland, Ziad sat between the antlers of a young buck. He was like a king presiding upon his throne between two thin columns. His decree carried in the wind blown by the force of the showering water meters away.

"Casey must go from our tribe at once. She will be escorted to the edge of our forest. She will not return! Do not forget the words of the Briartamers, human!"

A deep buzzing sounded before her and she followed it numbly. She was being freed, but at a price. She had to take Oliver's cloak; but what if she didn't? What would the pixies do then? They might very well give her to the Greads.

She continued to walk like one burdened. Looking down, she could see the sickly color of the skin at her puffy wrist. Yet, it caused her more pain to come to terms with the betrayal she felt. She had wrestled with it for hours. Had Oliver really lied to her? Ziad's explanation made sense; why had she never thought it through?

What was the point of becoming a nymph harbor if she couldn't go back? She tried to recollect what the prince had told her about the dragonflies, how he could summon them and their love of mind rhythms.

"_I heard your mind's rhythm when my dragonflies first found you… _

_"...when my friends are close, they give to me what they perceive."_

Would she hear what the dragonflies heard, too? What difference would that make? She pursed her lips, viewing the thick wood around her as she continued the trek to the end of the Briartamer land. She would refuse to become a nymph harbor. She would not be one with the dragonflies, or whatever it was called.

Then it struck her devastatingly: what was she to do now? If she believed Ziad, then home was not an option. If she did what the mouth of the Briartamers told her to do, then she was giving up on returning.

Oh! She was angry with Ziad for speaking to her! The hope of home had been her banner of courage. She had waved it through so many struggles. What if she laid it down now? What did she have to keep her going? What was there to try for?

Was Drakkytbet really the only place to go? After being centered on returning to what she'd left behind, she had no desire to go any place else. Yet, Oliver had said something about Kapyn being trained to fly humans to the mountain, and Ziad seemed to think it was a nice place. Had Oliver ever really spoken of it? The lines in his story about Drakkytbet had been too blurred to read. She really knew nothing of it!

Zyri had practically told her her choices once – that the humans either went to the other side with the wild ones or Kapyn took them. Poor Zyri. Wing-torn! While she had grown to dislike the pixie, she now understood why Zyri had been so fierce about the Zource; and why the Fleshgatherers had been so intent on finding it after Ivan had stolen it. Zyri's punishment had come about because of her, because of the Dragonfly Prince's command to break a pixie rule which he had not established. He had spoken of making rules for their protection, but had he ever really protected the pixies?

He was, perhaps, the only protection she had in Dreone. If she took the cloak from him, what would happen? Wouldn't it be helping to do away with her own protection?

As the trees began to thin, Casey could see the blanket of fog was still draped over the land. She passed into it as it wove its way between the trunks and branches. Thicker and thicker it became until she could hear only the faint buzzing of her pixie escort. Their pinioned bodies appeared and vanished in the fog, leading her forward in snatches of direction. The moisture was heaping itself upon her, just as it had done in the mountains.

At first it was comforting to realize the mist would conceal her when she reached the edge of the forest. What lurked beyond? Wild animals? More pixies that would not honor the pact she had made with the Briartamers? How would she find Oliver? It was relieving to hope she would _not_ find him. Certainly the pixies couldn't blame her if she couldn't carry out her part of the agreement because she was lost! The moment the idea slipped into her conscious stream she realized how utterly foolish it was. Not found? What would she do, wandering around far away from anything familiar in a region where pixies did not tolerate a human's presence? She had considered it only because she was a coward; she wanted to avoid making a decision about Oliver.

Part of her wanted to hate him. Yet, even if what Ziad had told her was all true, how her heart yearned to justify his actions! She could understand why he would lie. She knew the fear of being alone, of wanting someone with whom to stay. It had driven her to rely on people and pixies – and even a snake! – to which she would not have given a second glance if not for trying to survive. Back and forth she debated, allowing her heart to give her guidance, then agreeing to follow her head. She had to decide. If the prince had kept from her the reality that she could never return home, she wanted to know it. It was a cruel thing to have allowed her to go on believing she could go back when it had never been possible!

Though she couldn't see a thing, she knew when she had stepped beyond the Briartamer territory. Immediately a sharp object raked against her pant leg. The noise of the pixies' wings rushed ahead of her and she struggled to keep up. The rest and light meal had only given her a small portion of the energy needed to travel again; and her wrist was in terrible state, performing wracking reminders continually.

The thorns and thickets lasted for a short distance, tearing her jeans, scratching her face and catching on the skin of her elbows as she walked with her hands locked to her chest. The fog was settling to the ground, and the lights of the night sky were more faded than she had seen in the journey through the mountains. The ground had become increasingly saturated as she left the haven of the forest canopy. She was soon sloshing through sludge again. Instead of the constant chill, though, the muck around her was becoming warmer and warmer. Her upper body remained cold with wetness, though the moisture had ceased to accrue on her.

Her attention was drawn to the spectacle rising in the distance. Before her the colors sprang forth in glorious spherical bursts like fitful specters. Dissimilar to the paling, patterned lights of the misty sky above, they held some tangible vividness and perfect randomness which awakened wonderment. Her winged guides were leading her closer to it. Excitement rose at the prospect of viewing the source of the phenomenon. She almost asked aloud, "Are we going there? Are you taking me there?"

Suddenly the warning hum of the pixies reached her ears. She saw a shadow move in the corner of her eye which, when she turned to look on it, blended into its surroundings. It had been grayish, or perhaps brown. She had seen the movement a good height from the ground. Was it a large animal? Casey's heart began to pound.

The pixies gathered in silent conference. "What is it?" she whispered breathlessly, just before they broke up and flew away, leaving her to stare across the gray glen in panicked horror. Should she run? The splintering jab of her wrist woke her to the tight pressure her good hand was applying to it. Should she fall to the ground and play dead? That worked with bears, didn't it? What if it wasn't a bear?

In the stillness, she saw a figure separate itself from a darker mass of trees. It moved fluidly and Casey recognized Oliver's shimmering robe. How quickly they had found each other! She was elated only briefly. Now the web of deceit was constricting around her.

* * *

**A/N: Casey's mind works in an endless series of questions when she must learn to act on her own. That would be exhausting to anyone's faculties.**

**Delia Anole: (Oliver) "...until now there was no way I could discern his true appearance." What's his true appearance to you now? "This pixie has something against the Dragonfly Prince." Pixies in general are against humans; but, yeah, Ziad seems to have a special antipathy for him. "Why has he so endlessly tried to rescue her?" Good question. Is it so cut and dried like the pixie presents it? "It also said that Oliver tried the same tactics on Ivan." Actually, Ziad asks why Oliver **_**had not**_** tried the same thing on Ivan. I think I mentioned in a review response that Ivan has never met the Dfly P. Oh, I can tell you're analyzing this. Thank you for sharing your perceptions. I changed the story genre; no offense taken.**

**Arista Everett June: *offers a brimming cup of Pixie Pucker w/ a tsp of nectar* "...how come she obeys him when he killed dearest, wonderful Zifford (sweet soul)?" Because she's the daughter of the mouth of her tribe and has to obey pixie code – which, at the time, was 'obey the dragonfly prince'. But, oh, she didn't want to! That's why the grieving pixie was gone for a bit and had to offer Casey a feast to bribe her to keep mum about her rebellious disappearance. Zyri has her own story; unfortunately, it's all in my head. How excited you are about the plot twist! Now I'm excited!**

**Hazelcloud: "Because Casey can't really trust anyone, not Oliver, not Ivan, not the fatherly Ziad." Yep. That's one of the morals of my story. Who can you really trust? Who's going to tell you the whole truth and not spin it from a self-serving point of view? Who is there to give a person the answers when the mentor being trusted the most comes into question? It's something to keep in mind while watching Casey's reaction in the next couple of chapters. I love how you zero in on the main points almost every time!**

**Iliana11: "She trusted her heart not her head. Ugh, it's one of those times where Ivan was right about her." If you think about it, what portion of her has any capability of figuring out the truth at this point? Ivan – a.k.a. Ol' Mr. Paranoid - trusts no one. Is he back home? Nope. Remember when Casey calls Zifford 'Jiminy Cricket' in chapter 13? I was alluding to the fact that she cannot depend on her conscience, heart, mind, etc. to find the way. The knowledge is not stored within her, so there has to be someone or something outside of herself which gives her that. While Casey's been on a quest to find someone trustworthy, Ivan's been on a quest to find info that's based in fact he can prove. What about Oliver? What's his mission?**

**Amanda0991: (Drakkytbet)"Maybe its just a place that people just end up and they form their own civilization." This really makes me want to tell you more about Drakkytbet, but I can't yet.** **"I do believe that Casey is never going home. Its been so long that she could never possibly be the same person again." It's a bit sad, isn't it? Thanks for this feedback. You're really seeing her dilemma.**

**morgs: Aw, don't die. You, too? What **_**is **_**it about Ivan?**

**Quiet Mindreader: (Ziad) "And is he as informed as he seems to think he is?" Now that question really needs to be asked, considering how characters have been misinformed in the past.** **"Does 'wing-torn' mean her wings were literally torn off as a punishment, or is it a figurative way of describing her emotional state?" It's literal, although the wing can be torn away, not necessarily torn off; and sometimes only one gets torn. It depends on the zeal of the wingtearer(s). "Because he wanted a fair maiden to be his companion, rather than a grumpy, angry Ivan?" lol! I hope this chapter made it clearer it's Oliver's robe that Casey's suppose to get from him. **


	61. The Only Way

Chapter 61 – The Only Way

"What should she tell him? What would he guess? Could she even persuade him to relinquish his protective garb? She rubbed her scratched elbow unconsciously, wishing she, too, had such a shield. She could not help but be relieved to see him.

"I knew Ziad would have you; he has proved himself very clever in collecting you."

So, Oliver did know Ziad. Again, she doubted her resolve, but kept silent.

"And it would be just his way to bring you to me."

"You think he wanted you to find me?" Casey was feeling the guilt of her secret, and wondering why Ziad would make it so obvious. Oliver would know what the pixie was up to, and therefore make her mission impossible to carry out. Clever indeed! What was she to do?

"Oh yes." He smiled as though enjoying some private joke before asking, "You are well? Your hand!"

His brow furrowed in concern and he moved to examine it. Unconsciously, she pulled away. "It's my wrist. Your calm doe wasn't so calm." She tried to grin nonchalantly, but the act wasn't even convincing her. She could _not_ pretend everything was the same between them. She couldn't even look him in the eye!

Instead, she noticed a discolored patch through the robe beside his neck at his shoulder. "You're bleeding!"

"I know," he said without any regard to it, and pointed toward the rising orbs of light. "The place of the nymph. It will be but a matter of hours before the Viliath passes." His eagerness seemed to reverberate through her. She wanted to ask what was so great about the nymphs. Why did he want her to be a nymph harbor like he was? Yet, she couldn't ask; for then he would know she now doubted his words. Was it possible Ziad didn't know what the dragonflies could do for humans? He had been so certain they could not take her back.

She followed him toward the magnificent display, the trees giving way to a region which looked to be nothing unusual. It was just a brown plain. Yet, above it the spheres of phosphorescence rose. As they drew near, she discerned it was a bog. Casey was immediately disappointed. More mud. Only this time instead of a small pond, it was an overcast marshland which spread as far as she could see.

She turned to the prince in dismay. "This is where the nymphs are?"

"Yes."

Casey felt a surge of anxiety, but tried to keep her emotions hidden from him as he sat down on the fallen trunk of a rotting tree and offered her water from the flask. Taking a seat beside him, she drained the container. When she looked up, he was watching her with a bemused expression.

"What?"

"Did he see that you were fed?" he asked quietly, speaking of Ziad.

She focused her eyes on the alluring balls of light to avoid his searching gaze. "Barely." At that moment she wanted him to guess her dilemma, to draw it out of her and give her the assurance that it wasn't so. Instead, she asked with averted face, "What will the nymphs do, Oliver?"

"They will do as I told you before; the nymphs will settle on you and learn your scent."

"If I become a nymph harbor, what does that mean will happen to me?"

He took far too long to answer. "As I said, you will have the ability to return home."

She pounced on his answer. "Have you been there? Have you been to my home?"

"Have I lied to you, Casey?"

She turned to him, knowing the betrayal and distrust she felt was etched in her features. It was too much at the moment to open her mouth. The entire conversation with Ziad would come spilling out. Oliver was lying! There was something he wasn't telling her, and she knew it had to do with the nymphs.

"Sit here. I must find something to brace your wrist."

She didn't respond, but watched him vanish into the tenebrous, mist-laden trees. She clenched her jaw with her resolve: There was no way she was going to become a nymph harbor now. She had to get out of it. Would there be time to persuade him to relinquish his cloak before the nymphs came?

From the sky, a mighty whoosh struck the air, resonating in her chest as the sound was repeated and grew louder. She knew immediately what it was before the sight of the beast met her eyes. Kapyn winged into view, his feet tucked toward his serpentine body. His humongous wings flapped with robust strokes; they were like hand-less arms. His tapered tail followed the fluid movements of his body, piercing the atmosphere with a powerful backlash.

She saw the dragon arch his spine and land heavily on his legs. His tail anchored his weight as he fell back, and Kapyn seemed to be sitting. His great, Tyrian-hued wings began to retract across his back. Only ridges of the arm-like sections were visible at the sides of his belly before he smoothly brought his reptilian head and body to the ground. Though she had just quenched her thirst, Casey's mouth had become dry again. She watched him warily from the side of the gurgling bog, as it effloresced enormous, kaleidoscopic mushrooms of light in hues of amethyst and rose. Kapyn slithered toward the trees, leaving the marsh, and Casey exhaled a sigh of relief.

The wait for Oliver's return was lengthy. She was startled by the rustling plants some meters behind her when he emerged, stepping around the log. He carried a good-sized branch under his arm. Sitting down beside her without a syllable, he went to work with the ebony tool in his hand. He was carving out the center with steadily strokes, shaving large, curling pieces of wood away. Casey examined the tool he used, which was curved and sharp.

"What is that you're using?"

He lifted the object for her to view. "It's the claw of the Tsiprith (Tsee-preeth) bird. They are predators found on the other side of Dreone." She tried to conceive of the size of the bird that would possess such a talon as he returned to his task.

He used her good arm to estimate the fit, and trim off the excess length. "I'll need my sash to secure it," he told her; and she unwound the leather belt from her neck. To remove it from her wrist was more time-consuming. The leather was embedded in her flesh where the skin had swelled around it.

She allowed him examine the limb, though it was very painful. She could not keep from gasping as he moved her hand gently. "It needs to be set into place." Casey groaned in dismay. "Will you let me do this?"

"Yes."

"Stand. I will be quick, but you must relax your arm as much as possible."

"I can't. It's gonna hurt."

He tucked her arm between his side and elbow, his back to her. She bit her lip as he held her forearm in readiness and clamped his elbow to his side to restrict her upper arm from movement. "Take a breath."

She hesitated before inhaling. He did nothing until she let go of the breath. Then he twisted her hand unmercifully, pressing down on her forearm, his fingers following the position of her bones and forcing them into place. Casey saw stars and almost lost her balance, falling against him. Her screams rent the valley. He paused only to begin the chore of fitting her arm into the hollowed branch. Would he quit messing with it? Why wouldn't it cooperate? Wasn't it over yet? Her legs shook weakly, ready to collapse under her.

From the wooded region came a roaring wind and in the periphery of her vision, light flickered. She turned her head toward it to perceive a ring of flames sweeping the trees at the perimeter of the marsh. "Oliver, it's on fire!"

"It is Kapyn. His fire will deter any from coming closer while the nymphs are vulnerable."

"He's trapped us in!"

"Trapped? Or protected? Consider: your cries may have reached the ears of a hunter."

According to his instruction, she held the heavy encapsulated arm with her good hand, while he wrapped the leather strap around the wooden cast. Holding the bird's claw in his teeth, he worked to tie the excess around her neck, creating a sling. Would it never stop throbbing? She had to get her mind off it.

"I heard a cry after we separated on the mountain. Did you – Was it the Gread hunter?"

The weight of the branch brought her head forward. "I knew his name." He spoke in the way she had heard the one in the Death Cove speak. "It means 'fierce of heart in his young mind'. He was not a man when I left their clan."

"It must have been terrible to know him and - and do that."

"I was glad to kill him. He is like the rest." Oliver spoke with no sign of concern. He could have been commenting on the mud at his feet for all the emotion he showed.

He was so different in his thoughts when it came to taking life! They were so different. Somehow this caused her to feel bolder. She asked, "What aren't you telling me about the nymphs? You haven't explained what becoming a nymph harbor would do to me."

He sighed and did not speak for a time. "It – it will be different for you. You will hear them and the things they hear. You will perceive things differently; but, Casey, it is the only way!"

"The only way for what? For going home or something else?"

He smiled knowingly. "You're not good at hiding things."

She felt furious with him for speaking with directness. She stared at him for many minutes before whispering fiercely, "I don't believe you!" Saying it aloud almost choked her.

"Refusing to believe me is the same as believing that fox Ziad." He watched her expression intently. Her face was an open book; she knew that. "You are trusting in the protection of a pixie. Haven't you experienced enough to know how unwise it is?" Behind him, the round, graceful blooms of light floated upward silently.

"I'm forced to play these games, and I don't know what move to make! And now the Greads have Ivan! And I know you won't help him." She shook her head. "I'm not going to become a nymph harbor, even for you!"

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**A/N: Is Casey finally choosing sides?**

**Delia Anole: "I've decided that the most trustworthy and greatest person to belive is Ivan." Would you trust a guy who sticks a knife (of sorts) in your face and threatens you and your freedom? None of the characters in this story are infallibly reliable. Casey can't even rely on herself. She's made plenty of mistakes. "There isn't mushy yuck because this romance is about survival, about conquest and coming to a basic understanding of NEEDING each other." Wow. Great analysis. Oh, but can I like mushy, too? :)**

**Arista Everett June: "Not only have you written every word, felt every pain of these characters in your heart, and endured continual renewing of inspiration...but you've kept your readers glued to the screen for 60 chapters! … How do you do it?" I just want to write to touch hearts. I pray about that. Maybe this is God's answer to help me overcome my shyness and lack of confidence. Here, I have an audience that rewards me with reviews of their take on what is happening in the chapter. Without that constant encouragement, my story would just -*makes airplane diving and crashing sound*. Reviewers don't realize how their sincere words inspire.**

**Iggles: Hi! "I have a feeling that once Casey removes his cloak, Oliver's going to turn into a giant, crazed, kraken-type thing…" :D You mean, you don't think Oliver is all he's Kraken-ed up to be? Oh, that was awful. Sorry. :o}**

**Amanda0991: "I'm wondering if Casey is going to attempt a rescue mission." I so want to respond to this, but shouldn't. "I'm thinking that her knowing he's alive gives her strength because if he can do it she can do it." Seeing that you understand that about her has me giving a happy shout. You really get her character!**

**Quiet Mindreader: ****According to pixies, humans have encroached on their territory and brought the dragons with them. Oliver explained in chapter 39 that he came through the portal. So, he did not originate in Dreone; he's from the same place as Casey. ****"Where did Oliver get this cloak?...I just know it must be rather bulky and heavy considering all the things he hides inside it. :D" Where Oliver got the cloak is still a mystery. All he says about it is in chapter 56:** _(C)"Where did that come from? Is it something the Greads made?" (O)"No. Nor can it be found but once a season in Dreone."_ **It's not bulky. It's very thin, stretchy and light. I don't think I've given that info anywhere. I'll have to remedy that. Thank you!**


	62. Wait and See

**Dfly P's reviewers: You have been fantastic in providing a sounding board for this story and giving me lots of kind encouragement. Have a double-update.**

_This chapter was originally beta-ed, but was reworked in a manner which required a shredder. Please let me know the mistakes you find._

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Chapter 62 – Wait and See

She could tell he was trying to register her meaning. "How would Ziad know your friend was taken?"

"Could the Greads have Ivan? Yes, they could. You can't know that they don't."

Oliver raised his eyebrow. "I see _that_ Briartamer has found the way to persuade you. But what does he expect in return?"

His response frustrated her and she stared at him scornfully. "I don't care about Ziad! I care about Ivan!"

"I know of your attachment to Ivan, but-,"

Casey blushed and quickly denied, "It's not like that. Ivan helped me. I have to help him."

"Ivan has made his own choices. Will you allow his decisions to stop you from going back?"

Her aching limb seemed to be draining her of energy. Feeling both physically and mentally tired, her shoulders slumped. "Why did you bring me all this way? What is it you want from me?"

"I want to be with you, but I have purposed to let you return through the Karshra. Now you refuse to take my gift to you, but will sacrifice yourself because of a false message from the crafty mind of a pixie."

He pleaded, "We have journeyed together, spoken our hearts to one another. I have done what I have promised to do. I cannot promise to see to the safety of Ivan. Even if there was time to discover what has happened to him…" He shook his head, and she wanted to sink into the aphotic slough at her feet.

"And, you forget, I know my clan well. Him? Their prisoner? Casey, consider: why would they keep him...?"

The thought hit her like a thunderbolt as Oliver's unfinished question resonated in her head. 'Why would they keep him alive?' The Greads didn't need him; they wouldn't _let_ him live!

"Oh, I just need to know, Oliver. I _have _to know if he's alive! If he's not, then..."

"Then what? How does that change what you will do?"

"I don't know. It just does."

"You were so unhappy the last time you saw him, but now you would risk your chance of going home. For him?"

She sighed miserably. "He's like me. We're both lost; we both want to go back. You don't understand that. It's not home to you like it is to us. He needs to know there's no way back because, if he's still alive, he's just going to keep trying until he _is_ dead. But, maybe if he was able to get away from the Karshra, he'd stop being so determined. Maybe he could go to Drakkytbet."

"Drakkytbet," Oliver muttered, nodding knowingly. "Ziad, what a wonderful scheme you concoct."

"What's wrong with Drakkybet? What other choice do we have?"

"You – not Ivan – _you_ have the choice to return through the Karshra. If you do not, you must learn to survive in this land for another season. I will no longer be able to keep you safe."

"Keep me safe?" Was he going to abandon her now? She looked into his face, which didn't seem quite so handsome. He wasn't as novel and intriguing when she viewed him through the emotions of distrust and disappointment. He turned away from her reproachful gaze to watch the haunting lights above the mire.

She was far away from the portal, far away from Ivan. She'd chosen this path. Perhaps Ivan had been right to try to stop her. In some Neanderthal way, hadn't he attempted to turn her head from the mirage the prince had presented? Now she was forced to choose between becoming a nymph harbor, the details of which had never been fully explained to her, and being left to fend for herself. She would be alone and vulnerable.

"I won't become a nymph harbor," she reiterated coldly.

"Please, Sezo, you have so little time. You must consider what you'll lose." He reached to place his hand against her cheek. She wanted to disengaged herself from that touch, but couldn't. His tenderness caused her heart to flutter, just like it had in the mountain. She didn't want to give up on that touch. She tried to turn her head away to conceal the display of conflicting thoughts and saw the vivid phosphorescence hovering above the marsh. It was the most incongruous display, seeing the fantastical, chimera-like gases spring up from the sludge. It seemed to taunt her with its beauty, ridiculing her for her decision. She just couldn't handle it anymore.

"He said there was no way for me to go back home," she told him, speaking of Ziad.

Oliver did not remove his eyes from hers as he answered, "How could he manipulate you without taking away the one thing you desire?"

"And he says you manipulate me by lying about how being a nymph harbor is the way back!"

He sighed and said, resolutely, "I'm telling the truth."

The bubbles, no longer dark purples and pinks, were becoming silvery against the surface of the mud.

"I don't know how I can believe you!"

"What would you have me do?" he whispered.

From the swampy water, Casey saw a particularly large, nacreous pocket rising.

"Ziad told me it is the cloak you wear that protects you from the pixies and the Greads. He says I have to take it from you, and then he will make sure that Ivan -" She stopped. It sounded so empty now that she'd said it aloud. How could Ziad, or any pixie, protect Ivan from the Greads?

Oliver smiled sadly, but was silent. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from her face and began to remove the cloak. The material reflected the variegated casts of light from the gaseous bubbles as it passed over his head.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, when his face was hidden from her in the folds of the garment.

Instead of handing it to her as she had expected, he brought the cloak over her head. Its thin, shimmering gathers fell to her shoulders, and he adjusted the clinging material to cover her frame. It was lightweight, and her fingers manipulated its underside as flecks fell into her palm. He brought his hands to the sides of her face and she gulped in regret as he drew the cowl over her head. She closed her eyes in self-disgust. Why had she listened to Ziad?

When she opened them, Oliver was walking toward an opening in the trees. The dragon came forward, moving across the ground heavily. She watched closely as Kapyn, his red eyes glowing in the argent luminescence from the marsh, stopped before the prince. They seemed to regard each other for a short time, the dragon's snakelike neck lowered to remain even with the prince's gaze.

Dragonflies came from everywhere, their persistent thrumming low; but as the fog nestled near the marshy terrain, it grew louder. She could make out a repetitive tempo, like a rhythm on a drum. The large ellipse upon the surface of the peat was growing, as a few smaller silver spheres broke away to drift toward the sky.

She knew it was time. The whole of the mire and everything surrounding it seemed to be waiting in proximate expectation. Oliver was walking away from Kapyn, and Casey took a few steps to meet him before she perceived he was not coming toward her. He was walking to the bog. He was stepping down into the thick pool, the water swallowing him to his waist. Kapyn followed, slithering into the liquid. A solitary figure beside the muddy bank, she watched as they approached the fulgid, shining mass rising out of the marshy depths.

He turned to her, his silhouette limned by the pearly light behind him. "Be with me, Sezo," the dragonfly prince entreated loudly.

All the unknowns of going to him crowded in on her and she pushed them away in the flood of her emotion. Without allowing a second thought to explore the consequences, she stepped down, robe and all, into the bog to wade to him. A well of tears was suspended in her lashes. "I want to stay with you. I do! I don't even care now if I can't go home. Just don't leave me alone."

"There is no need to give up what means the most to you," he whispered, the glow from the gigantic bubble reflecting in his dark eyes. "Wait and see."

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**A/N: I loved my beta's response to this chapter. "I knew it! Oliver didn't lie to her after all...um, right?"**


	63. Linked

**Part 2 of the double update:**

_Partially unbeta-ed chapter. Please review with corrections._

Chapter 63 – Linked

It was not a comforting thing to watch the mound in the midst of the mire gaining in size. It was going to be a terrific explosion of light when the pearly film finally detached from the surface.

The dragonflies were congregating on top of the inky pool and Oliver pulled her closer as she faced him. His grip on her shoulder tightened as though meant to reassure her, though she didn't know of what. She smelled the mossy scent of the watery marsh and lifted her head to find his chin centimeters away from her nose as he bent toward her protectively.

They watched and waited until a roiling, high-pitched zing split the air. Casey tucked her face into the hood, expecting the burst of gas to meet the atmosphere in a blaze of billowing iridescence; but only a few faint wisps of smoke-like brilliance escaped upward. Slowly, she raised her head to allow the robe to fall away from fending her eyes from what was happening. Some kind of obsidian-like substance was sparkling beneath the sac-like outer shell of the bubble. As the opalescent film slid back into the bog, she extended her head to look. "Cover your face," he warned. Yet, she couldn't pry her eyes away. The lump was moving. It was breaking apart into tiny particles into the air. It was a massive accumulation of bugs being pitched forth, and they were going to collide with both of them! She cringed, tucking her head again with a small, audible cry. The numberless swarm of insects hit.

Why had she decided to do this? What were these things crawling across her? They felt like they were latching onto the cloak; were they eating through it? They were big bugs; she could feel the weight of them, though her eyes were tightly clamped shut. Her mouth was sealed just as firmly, the natural instinct to keep them off her face and out of her mouth prevailing. She perceived a strong smell of smoke. Turning away from the flux, she squinted over Oliver's shoulder to find Kapyn's pointed snout covered in naiads. She gasped, but tried to keep still.

"He is using his breath to calm you," the prince told her as another cloud of the immature dragonflies slapped against them. She wanted to ask how the dragon would know to do that, but the thought dissipated into a feeling of apathy. Why did she care? It was too late to care. She was tired of being careful, watching her every step. What good had it done her? She was where she was, and there was no going back now.

The onslaught was still flocking to them. The part of her robe that was above water level was covered in them; no glimmering fleck could be seen. Trailing away from her own figure, she saw the arms of the prince were a shining, dark sapphire layer of the crawling creatures. Another puff of Kapyn's fuliginous breath snaked round her head and she felt her heart rate return to normal.

The naiads remain plastered to her, weighing her down. Along with the burden of her cast, she grew tired quickly; and Oliver, feeling her fall forward, held her up. "We can return to the land once the exuviae dry."

"Ex-what?"

"The old skins from which the dragonflies emerge. If you do not remain still, they can't properly attach. It will not be long."

She glanced up at Kapyn and watched as the insects roamed the scaly ridges of his head, crawling over one another to find an empty place to settle. Some were affixed to his closed lids, which he seemed not to mind. She could never tolerate a bug on her face. She considered this as the naiads were congregating on the hood over her head. Yet, it did not stir any panic in her now.

Lulled by the warmth of the mud and the breath of the dragon, she began to grow drowsy. "I can't stay awake," she slurred.

"Let us talk about your home. What will you do first when you return?"

"Um." She tried to concentrate as her eyes rolled back in her head. How could she feel so ready to sleep when every movement of the niche-seeking naiads caused a chill to trickle down her spine? "I'll call Laura and tell her to come home. She's back at school now, I'm pretty sure. Wow, I don't know how many days I've been here."

"You have been in Dreone nineteen days."

"Nineteen? Really? That means my birthday was… five days ago. I'm sixteen now."

"Do you feel older?"

She laughed to herself. "Yeah, I feel a lot older." The bugs were nestling into the material tucked behind her ear. Casey glanced to view them on Oliver. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. They were bunched together, moving across his shoulder and along his neck en masse. A few were in his dark hair and on his ear.

"What has happened to make you feel older?"

Casey made to shrug in response, but caught herself. It might cause the creatures on her to migrate again. "I don't know. Everything."

"Yet, your mind rhythm is the same."

"You can hear it through the nymphs?"

"No. These are too young. They only communicate with one another for now."

"They are communicating to each other?"

"Oh, yes. That is why they make a place for one another. You cannot hear it, but perhaps you can feel how they are all part of one flowing rhythm."

"How can you know that?"

"I hear it through the mature dragonflies. It is one unanimous pulse, like the beating of a heart." Casey tried to reflect on this, but the concentration made her sleepier. "When they reach the next phase of maturity, they will be linked to all Dreone's dragonflies and their nymph harbors."

She thought on this. "Oliver, if they are linked… then does that mean the nymph harbors are linked?"

"Yes."

"To each other, I mean."

"Yes."

"Then, I will be linked to you?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Oliver exhaled steadily as though he had been waiting for the question. "I cannot be sure. I have not communicated with another human nymph harbor. But, Casey, I think -," He paused, attempting to translate the concepts into words. "You will know things through me, and I through you, which will elevate our conscious perceptions." He added, "It will be like no other thought or experience."

Another shiver ran through her. Did she want to be joined in this powerful, unknown way to Oliver?

Just as Casey prepared to voice her doubts, Kapyn's breath reached her nostrils once again. She looked up at the beast's head and understood. "Kapyn is a nymph harbor."

"He is one of oldest. He brought me to this place."

"But why would he do that? He's a dragon."

"Yes. He is also a harbor for more than the dragonflies."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he holds what I have sought since my time in Drakkytbet, where I learned of the myths of this land."

"You mean the Gnosis? Kapyn is the Gnosis?"

"He is the vessel for the Gnosis. He has lived longer than his time in a place unfit for his kind. Dreone no longer has the resources a dragon craves."

"Like Itra."

"Yes, and dragons need intense heat to toughen and harden the scales."

She was silent, listening to Kapyn's short blusters of breath and the slight rustling sounds of the naiads close to her ears, the movements becoming infrequent. "What does Kapyn's mind sound like?"

"All animal nymph harbors have dull rhythms and are hardly distinguishable from other animals."

"I mean, what is the Gnosis' mind rhythm like?"

"The Gnosis has no mind rhythm."

"Oh. Then how do you know it's there?"

Casey felt a hot wind blow across her shoulders. "That did _not_ feel good," she opined, her cheeks flushed by the temperature change.

"Kapyn is testing to see if they have settled."

"You mean Kapyn or the Gnosis?"

"Sometimes they are one in the same in that the dragon performs the wishes of the Gnosis." He led her toward the bank.

"But, Kapyn doesn't really think for himself. He cares only about getting fed and sleeping and stuff, right?"

"That is so. But because of the Gnosis, he performs intelligent actions. He is more formidable than other dragons, yet more vulnerable, as well." They stepped onto the solid, slick ground, and she could see the placement of the molted, midnight blue bodies of immature dragonflies across his figure, from head to elbow. Both of them stood awkwardly, covered in the nested creatures. "Kapyn's behavior, if noticed, would cause him to undergo scrutiny from those in Drakkytbet. The Gnosis avoids this, while attempting to meet the needs of the dragon. This is a precarious thing when you consider how Kapyn will instinctively fly to the northern mountain for Itra. He also risks being seen by the clans on the other side of Dreone when hunting his food."

Casey, fighting the recurring desire to swipe off all the repulsive insects, was giving her all to focus on what Oliver was telling her, and was rewarded by a better understanding. "That's where pixie-feedings come in!"

"Yes. The feeding ritual was created long ago. Though the pixies try to neglect it, it is needful to protect the vessel of the Gnosis from being discovered."

"You mean no one else knows?"

"Those who have known have perished with the knowledge. Most would want to kill the dragon for the Gnosis."

"What about you?"

"The stone of knowing is far too great for any man to wish to control."

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**A/N: Had you already figured out where the Gnosis was before this chapter?**

**Iggles: "No, no it wasn't awful it made me laugh actually." Whew. Glad you get my zany sense of humor.**

**Healed535: "If he keeps people out while the Nymphs are vulnerable, and becoming a Nymph harbor is the only way back home, then Oliver is more than likely telling the truth about how Casey can get back home..." Cool deduction! And thanks for your wonderful review.**

**MeldaTavar: "I love how much depth you give your characters." I love my characters and want to explore their fictitious brains. That sounds very weird. *shrug* Thanks so much!**

**Amanda0991: "It seems that I ask the only questions you can't answer. It makes me a little sad but at least I know I'm interested in the right things." True, true. :) "I don't think that becoming a nymph harbor would necessarily be a bad thing for Casey but I do think that it would somehow benefit Oliver more than it would her." How do you think it might benefit him? "I can only hope because everyone deserves a second chance." Ooh. Nice. Does everyone 'deserve' it, or does everyone 'need' it? Absolutely loved reading what you thought after that chapter!**

**Delia Anole: "I do have to admit that this chapter started out very confusing..." Yes. I think having the thoughts divided from the previous chapter made it harder to follow because she was trying to talk herself through a complex situation and react carefully.** **"He showed no remorse at her screams of pain." If he had halted because of her cries, it would have drawn out the process of setting her wrist. That would have been worse. His back was to her to keep her arm straight and to brace it under his arm, so she couldn't pull away. This is one of those places where I probably made a mess of the description, so I really appreciate your comments. I'll go back and work on it.**


	64. Outlander

**A/N: I was hoping to have this chapter beta-ed, but technical difficulties triumphed. Please review with corrections.**

Chapter 64 – Outlander

She looked up to espy Kapyn, whose serpent-like hulk was coiling between the burning trees and the lake of slough. His actions had always come in energetic surges, a lethargic attitude quickly following. "Now that I think about it, he does act pretty old."

"His scales have not retained the same luster, even since he shed a thinning layer. Death will come before another season passes."

Her gaze remained on the dragon, viewing him from the perspective of his fragility. She couldn't believe she was feeling sorry for the loathsome reptile. What a strange sense of compassion she had for things. Why, she'd never even seen anything remotely like this terror-provoking creature before nineteen days ago!

"Oliver, where did the dragons come from?"

"They come from the mountains of fire across Axioni."

"No. I mean, where did they come from first? They couldn't have come from my-," She paused before answering her own question. "No. That's ridiculous! Dragons and humans aren't from the same place. That's just another of Ziad's lies." She glanced at Oliver's enigmatic expression. "Right?"

"If you consider that dragons have only been tamed and ridden by humans, do you think it is so absurd?"

"But there aren't any dragons where I come from!"

"Does that mean there have never been?"

"In myths maybe..."

"Within a myth truth is often buried."

Her eyes settled on the great beast again, at the head which looked to be covered in a bluish film of dried exuviae. She smiled. "He looks like he's wearing... Hey!" She examined the clustered chain of naiads across the back of Oliver's tunic. "They look like your cloak!"

She felt embarrassment once she realized she'd brought up the subject of the cloak he'd given her. Yet, he smiled. "Once the dragonflies emerge, the exuviae will remain. It can be prepared for use; I will show you.

Gratefulness moved Casey to tell him, "Oliver, I can't believe I let Ziad make me doubt you. Some things he said just seemed to make sense."

The expression of smiling at a shrewd joke returned to his face. "I should like to catch him in his own deception once. He is so entrenched in his own sly intelligence. If he were made to choose between his strategies or his kind, he would turn on his own race. I think he already has, but I would not jeopardize my position here to expose him."

"He told me you were hiding."

"Was that any secret? But now you can see that I do not hide for myself alone." He nodded toward Kapyn. "I hide another."

"Why do you need to protect the Gnosis?"

"I have vowed to be the Protector."

"Why?" Even as the word was spoken, Casey recalled his clan, the Ceiah. Protectors.

"The Gnosis holds all events and beliefs that have ever been in existence upon Dreone. You see, what is right or what is wrong is reality only as defined by a situation, or a society in a span of time. As the ages unfold, the laws change. Every concept will change with time."

"I don't believe that _everything_ changes. I believe some things stay the same."

"Still, what does your belief mean to the one who is brought here from your home hundreds of years from now? Or, what does your belief mean to the one who lived here in Dreone long before you came?" His dark eyes flashed keenly as he spoke to her. "You may tell me what you believe, but I want to _know_."

"I want to know, too, but I can't be so sure."

"I see that within you. I do not profess to be sure of anything. I don't expect that. If you empty yourself of what you believe and start again, you will find that surety is no great measure of reason."

She smiled incredulously. "How can I empty myself? I can't empty me of me."

"You will learn as I have."

"If I empty myself, what will I be filled up with? Why is being empty such a great thing?"

"Because it frees you."

"From what?"

"From the rules you place upon yourself, which will be discarded by those of the past or in the future."

"What do I care about what someone from the past or in the future thinks? Who says they have any better idea?"

"You speak in terms of 'better' and 'great', but why do you believe it is your place – or anyone's place - to decide?"

"You've decided what the Greads do is not as good as what you do; you've already told me that. You want me to accept what you say, but you think your way is better than the Greads'. That makes no sense."

"It cannot make sense to you. You don't know anything of the clans or those of Drakkybet. The pixies' animosity toward humans still confuses you. Draw away from what you think you know, and only then will you become capable of learning."

Casey sat down tiredly and pursed her lips in annoyance. His arguments went round and round; and they always ended with her inability to understand being synonymous with his empirical comprehension of life on Dreone. He _did_ know more than she did about Dreone, but the more she learned about his life, the more she saw that he was an outlander, wanting to change his environment to fit what he thought would include him. Where her rules had formed her, they plagued and repelled him. He wasn't as accepting as he imagined himself to be. He was alone and seeking to bring her into his solitude. Instantly, she understood why her wish to bring him back with her would never have worked. He would remain outside because he chose to be outside. Had she chosen to be outside by choosing him? She could not bear to be completely alone; yet, she was aware of the futility in accepting his inconsistent views. When had her choices become so narrowed and limited? Ebullient injustice stirred within her.

"If I started over and tried to let go of the rules in my life that I've always followed, I'd be – It would hurt me. It would hurt others, like you have hurt others. Do you enjoy it, Oliver? Do you enjoy killing?"

"You let emotion tell you how to decide a situation." He knelt before her with care for the cocooned beings over him and rested his hand on her shoulder as a branch nearby succumbed to the hungry flames. "Yet, it is good that you feel so much. You have a great capacity for such things."

"You are always complimenting my heart and my feelings and stuff. Is it because yours is so closed?"

"Do not be angered."

She wanted to argue she wasn't, but she knew she'd asked the question to irritate him. She was irritated. She wanted to retaliate against the meaning his words implied. Yet again, she was being told she was so young and foolish. She wanted to respond with the same assuredness he affected. She would settle for just being able to pretend she was sure!

"You are frustrated because of an ideal, Sezo. Stop scrambling for something to cling to. You can let yourself go, and you will still be you. Why don't you trust that you can decide your own life?"

She pulled away from his hand and it dropped from her arm. "I've seen enough of my own mistakes and everyone else's to know letting go isn't going to make things better. Plus, what would I face at home? It's already so complicated, and I don't want to be thinking about all the things done here that would be wrong to do there."

She sighed and looked toward the sleeping giant across the marsh. "If you can come up with your own set of rules, what's the point of having the knowledge – or the knowing – or whatever?"

"The Gnosis provides an insight to what is beyond the temporal here and now. The one who is informed of all things past makes the clearer decision."

"Are you sure the Gnosis is giving you the right information?"

"Information is not subjective."

"But it can be used that way. Ziad told me the truth about the fact that you are hiding, didn't he?"

"The Gnosis is not a pixie or a human."

"So, it gives the info with no strings attached?"

"Strings?"

"I mean it's not motivated by something – something you have to do in return."

"It asks nothing. I choose to protect it, and it grants to me understanding."

"That's it? How is that going to make Dreone a better place?" The sound of her bitter retorts were grating upon her own ear.

He stood, shaking his head at her sympathetically. "You are overtired. I should not have pressed you to consider this when your mind is overwrought from your talk with Ziad and the experiences here. I will let you rest."

Her eyes followed him as he walked along the bank, and she tried to come to terms with his decision to discontinue their discussion. Bellicosely, she watched him, knowing she had wished to break him, to cause him to feel the same disconcertment she was experiencing. When forced to hold to her beliefs, she had been shocked to find all of them dissipate as she grasped at them. How could that be? So many times she'd tried to show him what to her was indisputable. It was the same in her eyes as proving a stone lifted in the hand, when released, would fall to the ground. Yet, a rising stone would not have been nearly as staggering to her as it was to find her convictions foundationless.

Oliver was near to Kapyn as the reptile lay upon the ground with his pointed tail looped atop his clawed foot. She saw the dragon lift his head. What was Oliver doing? Was he going to talk to the dragon? She recalled the words Kapyn had spoken to her once.

"_Do not cry out. Do not rile the beast."_

No. It had to have been the Gnosis, not Kapyn. Her vision blurred, and she saw the great dragon only a few steps from her; yet, in reality, he was a considerable distance from where she sat. The picture lingered and caused her to wonder how he had appeared so close. She shook it off mentally. She _was_ overtired. Without meaning to, she took a peek around the cowl which hid the nymphs on her shoulder from view. If feeling the bugs had caused her to cringe, seeing them massed together, shimmering indigo lump after indigo lump down her side, was enough to make her bite her lip to keep from grabbing at the material to get it and the naiads off.

Oliver remained with the dragon, and she grew tired of sitting. She slowly began to hunch over until she slid down the log and lapped her unfettered arm over it, her broken right wrist still tucked in the branch under Oliver's cloak. She leaned uneasily, attempting to find a comfortable position without troubling the nymphs.

Why was she doing this? It scared her to think how much she depended on Oliver. She needed him too much. She needed his protection. No, that wasn't the real reason. She needed to be important to someone. He made her feel she was necessary to him, that she was more valuable than she realized. His care of her had revealed this. Regardless of what she said, he never turned his back on her. He might walk away, but it was for her benefit; he always returned. He proved willing to listen, to explain his thoughts. Why was she so important? Why did she matter so much? And how much _did_ she matter to him? Could she really be what he thought she was? Would he find one day, after months or even years spent together she wasn't what he had expected her to be?

In the back of her mind, she realized she had all but concluded there really wasn't a way back. Her time in Dreone had been a constant struggle to survive. After nineteen days, the hope, which had kept her fighting, wasn't so clearly felt. When she had finally decided to examine that longing, like a treasured last coin, she had found it was counterfeit. The only genuine article to her now was Oliver. He had been there for her; and he wanted her to stay with him, though she couldn't understand it. Now he was asking her to think in a way which would force her to give up the old Casey, everything she knew, everything in her life that had ever mattered.

She thought about her parents. What would they think of her decisions, if they ever knew? What were all their careful warnings and rules good for here? Was truth really just a matter of circumstance or situation? Her circumstances had drastically changed! Could she let go here – empty herself?

What was it like to have no rules? Maybe she could keep a few rules, and he could teach her how to let go of a few. What could she let go of? What rules didn't work in Dreone? Well, she would have to learn to kill, but only in self-defense. Oliver considered the lives he took as a necessary way to protect, after all. Wasn't protecting actually a good thing? Casey groaned in confusion.

Could Oliver teach her how to dupe the pixies? Knowing where the Gnosis was would be enough to need that skill. Then she might be able to hold her own and not get into so much trouble with them all the time.

Would she hide as an outlander in Dreone with Oliver for the rest of her life? What about Drakkytbet? Would it be better to live there? She had the impression he didn't think so.

Even though she was lying down, she had an odd sensation of shifting her balance. Again her vision reverted, and this time she saw the back of Kapyn's head beside her. A quiet murmur, like a tuneless melody was growing. It seemed to sway inside of her, a comforting lullaby. She felt so tired. She felt she could sleep for years. It was wonderful to feel the drowsiness. She welcomed it, closing her eyes.

* * *

**A/N: Instead of review responses, here are some thoughts about the story I'd like to share, since we are nearing the end. (Only 50 more chapters! j/k)**

**How many times have you compared Ivan and Oliver? I've noticed a few comparisons in reviews. What about the cave in the gorge compared to Kapyn's cave? The northern mountain to the southern one? One side of Dreone compared to the other? One of my objectives for this story has been to use comparisons, some very easy to discern between, while others remain obscure and difficult to examine. It's the same way in life, too. Sometimes, when comparing things, it is so easy to see the differences; but mostly things aren't so easy to figure out.**

**One of the concepts Oliver offers Casey is: deception can mimic truth. And it does. What is not truth uses misdirection and half-truths to trick and manipulate. Using this theme, one of my goals was to present things which might have you to ask, 'Is (person, pixie, place, animal, idea, etc.) good or bad, trustworthy or untrustworthy?' It's a natural expression of our humanness to ask this. Yet, on what do you or I base the answers? This is what Casey has had to face in the past couple of chapters. She is trying to answer questions that cause her to doubt her values, her beliefs. Along with that, she has the burden of making choices that might render her completely on her own. While the story is fantasy, the situation is real. Have you ever felt something similar to Casey's doubts?**

"_I know, O LORD, that the way of man is not in himself, that it is not in man who walks to direct his steps._" Jeremiah 10:23

**and**

"_Trust in the LORD with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding._**" **Proverbs 3:5

**It's not wrong to ask the questions; God made within us a need to seek out the truth. Yet, I'm often told to lean on what I think I know, to trust my heart or my conscience, and to depend on my ability to make the right decision. Or, like Casey, I've just believed what someone told me without looking to what God's word says. Does God expect the truth seeker to do that?**

"_For our appeal does not spring from error or impurity or any attempt to deceive, but just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel, so we speak, not to please man, but to please God, who tests our hearts._

"_And we also thank God constantly for this, that when you received the word of God, which you heard from us, you accepted it not as the word of men, but as what it really is, the word of God, which is at work in you believers." _1 Thessalonians 2:3-4, 13

**The Creator of reason entrusted his message, the Bible, to His children to be passed down through the ages. When I trust in His word and apply its instruction, I am not alone in seeking to find Him and His truth. His word is at work within me. If I choose God as Guide and Protector, how can I ever be alone?**

**I hope you can relate to Casey's fear of being left alone. I think it's something we all have to go through to appreciate what never being alone means.**


	65. No Words

**A/N: The chapters I'm working on are being persnickety at the moment. I hope you'll be patient with me. It may take as long as three weeks before I update again. And I can always use your encouragement!**

Chapter 65 – No Words

She was not dreaming. She was thinking, or _something_ was thinking inside of her. It was like a hunger; but it was greater than the constant one from her stomach. The same mesmerizing hum carried her along. She was exploring something. What was she looking for? There was more than one sound now. They were gaining distinction. Were these mind rhythms she was hearing? She switched from one to the next, rehearsing each new series of crepitations around her. In circles she went, repeating them until she recognized individual patterns and looked for something different. What was she listening for? It was here; she knew it. Where was it? It was so indistinct. She had to get closer. If only she could reach...

Suddenly a frantic sussurration broke forth near her ear. She felt the elation and soared as the dragonfly winged upward. Yet, it wasn't leaving her. She was with it. She could hear everything. She could feel the devouring urge to learn, to explore. Where was that sound? It was close. She wanted to hear it better.

The whispers of infant wings grew around her and she felt the euphoria of their freedom. She opened her eyes to look around her and saw the dragonflies. _Her_ dragonflies. They were so beautiful, their straight bodies glinting like glass as they boldly streaked across the bog. She scanned the bank for Oliver, wondering if his dragonflies were hatching from their skins. She couldn't find him.

The rhythm grew loud inside of her. It was a quick, flashing pulse. '_Like lightning_,' Casey recalled Oliver telling her. Her dragonflies were ecstatic! They congregated around the sound. More of them escaped from her robe to know the alluring rhythm. It filled her with curiosity, as well. What strange thoughts made this mind tick this way? What mind was she listening to?

She stood to search the marshy area for her congregating dragonflies. Surely she would see them and their subject would be known to her. Immediately, her vision faded and a simple picture replaced it. It was a blanket of bright, almost metallic-looking dragonflies fluttering over her. Then it was gone. She looked up and saw there were dragonflies above her, but it wasn't the same formation, they weren't the same ones. These weren't her dragonflies. Her heart seemed to beat irregularly. Its beats were strong and slow, she could hear it. She placed her free hand over her heart. That heartbeat flowing through her brain wasn't her own. Where was Oliver? She needed him to tell her what these new experiences were.

Again, her sight tricked her. She closed her eyes, trying to shake off the strange sense of things in her head. Her breath came fast and she tried to control it, finding the alien rhythm of that elusive mind crackling furiously, causing chills to erupt over her arms and neck beneath the cloak. She opened her eyes, hoping to see Oliver, but he wasn't there. She looked toward the opening in the trees, near to Kapyn's slumbering form. Had he gone that way?

She walked a wide circle around the dragon, and was nearing the trees when the pictures came like blows to her head. She saw a Gread. His expressionless eyes were boring into hers. The steely insignia on his brow was the same one she had seen in the Death Cove. Scared, she tried to run from the figure, turning toward the marsh while blinking to get a glimpse between the pictures in her mind. She scanned the area again. There was no Gread. What was happening to her? Suddenly the dragonflies, keeping so close to her, rose in one uniform mass and flew into the forest. Should she go with them? From Kapyn's mouth came a low roar, which sounded like a loud purr. The beast was deep in sleep. This didn't relieve Casey; she was too distracted by the visions and Oliver's absence.

She returned to the trees; she had to find him. He would explain what she was seeing. The heartbeat was pounding in her ears as though it would burst her eardrums. Things were blurring again. She closed her eyes and saw the Gread, his arm lifted and bent to rest his hand on his own shoulder. Then, with a forceful swipe, he cut across the flesh, tearing his own skin with an object in his hand. A ribbon of crimson rose from it as he pointed the weapon toward Oliver. It was a Tsiprith talon.

For a split second she felt she couldn't move as the rhythm inside of her ceased completely, before the sound raced through her with more intensity still. Her muscles tensed and she had to run. Unaware of where she was going or why, she sprinted through the wood, urged to vent her adrenaline and fear.

Now her vision blurred again, and she tripped and fell to the forest floor, rolling painfully onto her encased arm. The face of the Gread was almost touching hers it seemed! His head was pressed to a tree trunk. His eyes were frenzied with fear. She saw her hand – but it wasn't her hand! – grab his jaw and twist it upwards, slowly and torturously; her gaze was focused on the neck. Suddenly a high-pitched cry of anguish shattered the marshland. Casey heard it in the distance as she saw the talon pierce the Gread's throat, cutting off the sound for good.

She tried to pull away from the scene in her head, and her sight returned to the flakes of grey ash beneath her. She stood and ran back to the bog. Whatever was happening, the cry had told her the Gread was close. She didn't want to find that Gread or the source of the dragonflies' interest in the violence occurring. Yet, what she had seen remained fresh in her mind's eye. It was like a brand on her memory.

She sighted the sleeping dragon before her vision was overpowered by the phenomenon within her once more. She was close to the Gread still. His mouth was open with silent screaming. He was still alive. She watched her bloodied hand lift, still holding the talon. That hand, that weapon. Suddenly she understood: This was Oliver! She was seeing through Oliver's eyes! A Gread had penetrated Kapyn's fire, and he was doing away with him.

She let out a quiet sob as her stomach turned. She had to get rid of the face of that Gread and what was being done to him. She couldn't watch. She couldn't watch! She shook with the effort, trying to detach her consciousness from his, but could not prevail. She could not prevent her view of the butchering.

"NO! NO!" Her shrill plea reverberated in her own head. "NO! Please, no! Oliver, stop it! STOP!" Yet, still she saw every detail of what he was doing before he hesitated. He'd heard her.

She looked up to find Kapyn, his ruby eyes peering at her as he rose, slithering, approaching. She backed away from the dragon. Yet, there was nowhere to go. The beast faced her and lifted his monstrous head skyward as though in the act of summoning. Casey heard the dragonfly's vicious buzz before she felt the sting upon her cheek. It had bitten her! She touched the place gingerly and examined her fingertip to find a dot of blood was there.

"_He protects you._" The tone in which the words were spoken caused her to exhale her panic. The pungent odor of his breath filled her nostrils and subdued her alarm. This was the voice she had heard in the cave. This was the way she had felt then, ready to give in or go mad all at once.

She stared into the faceted feral iris which reflected the quiddity of the Gnosis within, and remained paralyzed until the dragon drew back on his hind legs and spread his wings. Kapyn's neck swayed in slow motion, as he shifted his weight and pushed off the ground, hitting down in a series of kicks toward the open field of the marsh before his wings caught the draft and lifted him into the air. His narrow tail flicked a sprinkle of mud across the bog as he flew over it. Soon the dark beast disappeared through the multihued clouds.

Little by little, her senses returned to her, as the voice repeated its refrain.

"_He protects you."_

Protect. Was that what it meant to protect? She could never do that – kill like that. She sat down between the trees, unmindful of the hot, smoldering branches surrounding her, and stared out over the silent marsh. In the thin lights from the cloud cover, its dull leaden surface seemed to be overspread with polished midnight stripes. She stayed there, motionless, as Oliver's mind rhythm flashed in and out of her hearing. Oliver was moving too fast for the dragonflies to remain on him, she guessed. Each time she felt his mind's refrain, nausea passed through her.

She heard his steps and looked up to him slowly. He breathed heavily as he approached, slowing from his sprint. What he had done was reflected in the cold dejection of her gaze. She had been torn from the tender shell of innocence and had witnessed what giving pain and death to another was.

The young dragonflies encircled them and Oliver bowed his head, his brow crinkled. "Oh, Sezo."

He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, but she had no words. He took her hand, helping her to stand. "We must go from here, but first we will prepare cloaks for the new season." He tried to lead her, but she did not step forward. He released her hand and it dropped to her side listlessly. He walked a few steps ahead of her, looking back to beckon. "We cannot stay here. You must stir yourself."

She lifted her knees and stepped forward mechanically before she noticed he had a stain to match the first on the other shoulder. The chafing, poignant image of the Gread drawing his own lifeblood in challenge awoke her to the time in the mountain when she had examined the prince's back. There had been the strange, uneven scars across the top which had not resembled the workmanship of the wings of stone and metal. His kills were tallied upon his skin. She lifted her trembling, mud-smeared hand to her forehead trying to figure out how to feel, how to react.

She stepped down into the miry pool with as much resistance as a puppy following her master. The temperature of the bog had significantly risen. It felt like it should burn her, but cooling streams drifted past her legs.

"It's hot," she observed, and her voice was foreign to her.

"The Viliath is very close. See the paths upon the water?" He touched the slick substance with his finger and the shining trail lifted, clinging in a line from his hand to the mud. He placed his palm fully to it as he sang,

"Stir the waters,

Your silken paths,

From the Ebydd's tree

In Drakkytbet."

His voice, so melodic and full of emotion, caused her heart to ache with sadness. 'How could he sing so entrancingly and be full of things she had never wanted to know or see? How could the same being have both beauty and ugliness?'

He applied the shinning matter to her shoulder. It was warm. Lifting her hand, she felt of its oily texture, as Oliver circled her to anoint her back and other arm. It didn't drip or pour down from her frame, but extended in attached webs from the mire like oleaginous, gossamer screens.

"There. The exuviae is bound together for the season."

"Darts can't go through this."

"No."

"Pixie bites…"

"They can't bite through it."

"What about the old cloak underneath?"

"It will adhere to the new."

Casey examined it, focused on the security of this double armor. "It's thicker."

"Yes."

"Good. Where's it at? I can't see it."

"What?"

"That stuff you put on me. Where is more of it?"

He pointed to the trickles of ebony stretched upon the sea of deep brown. "You can see it there… and there – Where are you going?"

She was wading toward the closest trail in the mire and laid her hands down on the inky substance, as she had seen Oliver do. She began to apply it to her chest, arms, and head. It clung and gave, creating elaborate strands of netting around her. She had an idea and turned her whole body, twisting the fine, gauzy threads. She began to laugh. "Look, Oliver!" She laughed and laughed, twirling and twirling in the morass. The more the delicate strands tightened around her the safer and happier she felt.

"Casey! Casey, you must listen." Oliver had been speaking to her for sometime, but she realized it only when the tone of his voice had become uneasy. What was he afraid of? She tried to quit giggling enough to hear what he was saying.

"Let me take you from here. Let us go from here."

The thought made her sad. She didn't want to go. She needed more of the oily stuff.

He took her shoulders in his hands and caused her to turn toward him. He pulled away the threads to reveal her face, as Casey grinned up at him.

"Sezo-,"

Her neck felt like it snapped forward as the wound threads around her, gave a tremendously swift tug; and before she could comprehend what had happened, Oliver's face became a distant oval as she tore through the muddy water.

* * *

**Tater748 said, "This last chapter is really action-packed. Can't wait for the thrilling 50-chapter conclusion." xD**

**Healed535 sent a message which reminded me of how our thoughts and words can work for God's glory:**

"_Don't you just love it when He is showing you something and it just sort of gets reaffirmed through someone who has no idea they are being used in that way? Because that happened to me with the author's note at the end of your last chapter. You wrote, 'I've just believed what someone told me without looking to what God's word says' and that is exactly what I am dealing with. The more that I dig into His Word and start understanding what my life and mission is really about, the more I realize that I have lived my Christian life just believing that others understood and knew more than I did. I have just taken the word of others and believed that it was the truth."_

**Isn't it awesome how God brings comfort and encouragement through all avenues (even ff!)? What tender care He shows.**

**Arista Everett June: "(Casey) realizes her own faults, mistakes, and questions herself... Her confusion is so strengthing to read...I know that sounds odd." It doesn't sound odd at all. I'm so glad her character is developing.** **"I guess with Ivan's insanity and Oliver's situational ethics, Casey just needs to get with Thon…" Bhahaha! "I almost feel that Oliver 'loves's' Casey because he sees her as weak, and that therefore she reamains 'safe' to him…" I think you're reexamining what his motives might be. Love that.**

**Delia Anole: "Are you trying to bring in the relation of a child-like innocence and emphasize it more than ever in Casey?" Um… *thinks about playing this off, then decides to be honest* No, that would be my own naiveté; I never even thought of that. *blushes* Argh. I need to reword that.** **"So, I didnt' think you wanted me to answer your questions... But I had to!" It was awesome to read what you thought. Thank you for making my day with your encouragement!**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Kapyn's dying? So what will happen to the Gnosis?" Good question. "I thought Oliver said he didn't want it anymore." He said he wasn't searching for it anymore (ch. 53) and that it was too great for a man 'to wish to control' (ch. 63). He never said he didn't want it. "'Do not cry out. Do not rile the beast.' …was it really the Gnosis?"** **Did this chapter give you a better understanding of that? The Gnosis doesn't need the dragonflies to talk to humans, but it does have a channel.** **"But the 'Protector' described in this chapter would be Oliver, and I'm  
still not convinced he is the right choice." Casey's been protected by the Dfly P, but she's escaped situations where the help didn't come from Oliver. Sometimes the person is looking to the immediate protector and doesn't see the whole picture. As always, your questions show me I have more to explain. :)**

**Iliana11: I've read the space trilogy! You've pointed to yet another work of fiction I've been influenced by. What I write is amazing? Thank you. You know what I find amazing? We've been friends for over a year now on ff and still writing and supporting each other. It's lovely, isn't it?**


	66. Viliath

**A/N: Here's an early Thanksgiving Day gift. What a delight it is to think about what a generous God we have, Who blesses and blesses again!**

Chapter 66 – Viliath

The strands were so tight around her she couldn't catch a breath. She was out of the marsh and into the open. The water was collecting and striking the robe at her back and head with numbing blows. The speed with which she was skimming across the surface was incredible. She tried to twist and free herself, and was plunged face-first into the sea. Coughing and choking, she maneuvered her head above the surface again, the useless threads plastered to her cheeks. Her whole face felt battered and she couldn't see. The force of the spray of water had done something to her vision! She panicked and flipped over again, this time feeling the burn of her wounded face as the second pounding hit it. She turned again and gasped at the air, trying to remain still, trying to remain alive.

Another tug pulled her downward into the depths of the water. She scrambled to reach the surface, and her loosened branch-cast shifted from under the web-like wrap. It was yanked from her arm as she was dragged down. Soon a warning pressure began to throb in her head and chest.

"No! I have to live!" The thoughts sped through her as she made one more weak twist. Then she felt it. The motion of the current told her something big had passed beside her. She barely squirmed in the cocoon netting as a billow of coolness suffused the calescent waters. She gulped in her state of suffocation. It filled her with air, and she blinked as her sight returned. She felt and knew immediately that the pain of her wounds was alleviated.

Her bonds went lax, and she remained suspended. In front of her danced a network of lights in red and violet. A pearly, spiral shell housed the pulsing, colorful filaments; and from the bristly opening a bright, nebular cloud broke free and washed across Casey in the deeps. It granted the same coolness as the first and surrounded her like a cushion while the soft glow shown on the bioluminescent creature, which was set in motion, the creature's carapace rolling forward. The bright cloud remained; she was adrift and breathing inside of it, the pressure of the water no longer bearing down on her. She knew it was Zource, but thought only of the sea creature with the shiny shell which flashed like a neon sign. It was emitting another pocket of Zource which joined the larger one encapsulating her. She began to float upwards and the hair-like arms extended from the opening of the gargantuan mollusk, lengthening swiftly. Tentacles wrapped around the ball of buoyant Zource. Casey watched like a spectator as the giant sea creature utilized it, the spaghetti-like strands growing, escaping from the light-giving aperture. Dark, web-like oils drifted and spread like an obscuring vapor from the protective sphere of Zource as the feelers stretched above and beneath her. The shell drew nearer and a well-lit blob emerged. She saw the formless object that unfolded from its mantle; it pressed against her sheltering haven, like a seer peering into a crystal ball. It opened its eyes, which narrowed to pin-points as the light leapt across the translucent features. It was a face, so human-like in its construction; and it was twenty times the size of Casey's. It opened its mouth, and she instinctively expected the creature to speak. The lips moved, but no speech reached Casey's ear. The Zource around her was being drawn in and she was spun in a whirlpool until she felt an opposing force pitch her. Up she went, the speed of which shut down her ability to function consciously.

~0~

She was flying. The wind was in her hair. She zoomed through an endless maze of funneling mist. Tilting to the right, she turned her head to what the corner of her eye had glimpsed. There beat a deep purple pinion: and above it in the distance a twinkling beam appeared. A grayish pillow lay below, engulfing the first rays of morning. The light was sifting through the raised and spiraling puffs of precipitation sitting atop the expanse. Her head lowered as the dragon dove. The breath left her; her heart missed a beat in her chest for what seemed an endless half-second. The mist concealed everything before the land appeared.

Beneath her ran the gorge, the water overflowing its basin, falling in glistening trails of waterfalls and gushing rapids. Straight ahead was a series of shining columns that reached upward, drawing to a point, until they disappeared into the shielded sky. She was aiming directly for them before the dragon banked left, arching in an upward climb to miss a pillar with the span of his powerful flight wing. Viewing the terrain as Kapyn winged northward, she found the land to be divided almost in half until the gorge veered to the right, cutting off the region to the east: the pixie's side. Swooping in an easterly descent, she could see, even from her elevated view, how cultivated and lush with greenness was the land which was seen to by the winged tribes. The floods of water escaping from the gorge had broken over the lowlands, creating rivulets across the plains and entering the thick forests. Small, half-hidden ravines peeked out from behind hills and trees, swallowing fingers of the streams. How much smaller this side seemed in comparison to the land on the western side of Dreone! Yet, it had taken them days to traverse its northern region. Oh, how white the water seemed! Reflective strips ran through it, like issues of purest silver.

She was searching, combing Dreone with her eyes. "Where are you?" came the shout, which hung upon the open air and ricocheted through her senses. It was Oliver's voice. _He_ was searching, soaring across the valley upon Kapyn.

She thought to respond, and would have asked, "Where am I?" but the coiled-shelled being of the water passed through her thoughts. It had mouthed a different question to her, as its eyes had blinked unintelligently.

_Why?_ It had queried.

The face had been almost transparent. Tucked within the brightness of the Zource, she might not have focused on it, if it hadn't been for the erratic lights undulating within the creature.

_Why?_ It mouthed again in her mind's eye.

'Oliver, why?' she thought inertly, and lost the link to him as her thoughts faded.

~0~

Was she finally waking? She felt like she'd slept so long, yet it seemed only a few minutes ago she'd been laughing and winding that strange substance from the surface of the mud around her arms and face.

She was in a lofty hall where light passed in scattered fragments. It reminded her of the Itra cavern, only the light was not blue. There were pale columns obstructing her ability to see deeper in. They were so wide in circumference ten of her could not have stretched arm lengths around one.

The farther in she went, the narrower the columns drew. She could see only a short distance ahead as she wandered through the colonnades. The light, which had only been a wisp of illumination, became more pronounced. It glanced off the side of a pillar ahead. She went toward it, looking for the origin of that phantasmal beam. She followed the rays, observing a column which seemed to bend as it reached upward. She rounded it and saw other buttresses farther in slanting inwardly; they looked unstable.

A small pouch with familiar markings caught her eye, for its contents created the ghostly light throughout the hall. The neck of the container was folded back and the liquid within moved enticingly, its soft glow alight against the sides of the pillars in the surrounding chamber. Zource. She moved to go toward it and heard someone speak faintly.

"So, you have returned." It was a pixie's voice.

"Zakree." Oliver answered. She knew then she was with him again. She was seeing what he saw and perceived in his tone a sense of tension. The pixie stood upon the ground and Oliver lowered himself, folding his legs beneath him, to be level with the winged one.

"I am come in search of a human girl. Have you taken one into your number this day?"

"I have seen no human girl here this day."

"Perhaps one of your tribe has seen her. Are you certain she has not come here?"

"I would know if a human girl had entered here."

"It is no small place; it would be easy for her to lose her way…"

"Do I speak untruth, human?" Casey did not hear Oliver respond before the pixie continued, "Why do you question me as though I would speak untruth when you know my ways, as I know yours."

"You judge too quickly." The prince's dismissal was clear. "My ways seek peace, like yours."

"Our purposes are not to the same end, for I asked you a question when last we met. You would not answer it. Do you remember?"

"I have not come to bandy words with a Zourcezerver. I seek for one called 'Casey'."

"And I have told you, she is not here. So, why do you remain?" She watched as Oliver's eyes returned to the small vessel which held the Zource. "Do you come to receive of the Zource at last? I have waited for you to return. I have thought long on what was spoken between us."

"You asked me then: Do I speak untruth. I will answer your question now: No." The force with which he'd uttered the syllable faded before Oliver explained, "I do not speak words to deceive. My truth is my own, though it differs from yours. I do not follow your rules because there is no perfect rule for every being in every time."

Zakree's eyes seemed to grow bigger in his tiny face. "If you believe that, then I grant you have discovered the first truth; and the one rule you have created renders you incapable of the peace you wish to bring to Dreone."

"It will bring order far better than your race has with its laws."

"Is your false truth given credence by the erroneous actions of pixies? The question, 'Do you speak untruth' does not rely on the deeds of any other creature. Until you are ready to face what you truly are, you cannot enter farther in. I know what waits outside; he will be anxious to leave."

"As am I." Swiftly Oliver stood, leaving Casey confused. Why had their words been so terse? Weren't Zourcezervers the ones he respected of all the pixies? He bent once and carefully picked up the pouch, gripping it by the sides but allowing its light to assist him as he returned through the hall.

Soon Dreone's sky was visible ahead. He stepped into the latent sunshine, and Casey saw the white sand all around which created the aura of greater brightness to the light which permeated the canopy above. All her eyes could take in from the shoreline was water. The land protruded into it, and only the smallest shadows in the distance to the left told her there was land beyond it. Kapyn rested at the very brink of the water's edge, as though his scaled girth would slip off into the dark waves.

Then, unexpectedly, Oliver turned back, marching up to the columns again. As he drew near, she could see the reflection of a figure on the metallic face of the cylindrical support. He approached without hesitation, and she saw the lines of Oliver's frame. The warrior staring back at her was immeasurably small traced against the base of the great pillar. Soon she understood, he was searching for something on its surface. What she first thought were small dents in the metal, she found to be faded sets of characters. She had seen them before on the perfect paper; Zyri had called it the old language. Finally, he found what he was looking for and reached his hand to press it against the metal. Peeling his palm away, she saw the symbols vivificated inside an amethystine handprint.

"There! You see!" Oliver was howling into the air. "_Dreone's heat will not increase, nor will it decrease. The winds will not shift its calm_. Is that your truth?" He craned his neck to follow the statuesque pillars straight upwards, and the mental picture returned of the features of Dreone from the flight Casey had experienced through Oliver's eyes. They were in the southern-most region. Here, the water separated them from the rest of Dreone. They were far from the Itra Cavern and Death Cove, far from Kapyn's mountain and the cave beside the gorge with the many stories, far from her pixie rock with the Fleshgatherers and far, far from Ivan's hut. _Ivan._ The ache awoke within her.

Oliver's hand slid from the pillar and he slewed round to gaze across the water. "Sezo?"

* * *

**A/N: 'Sezo' is pronounced 'Say zoh'. Oliver quoted, "Dreone's heat will not increase…" to Casey in chapter 38. He is pointing out that the temperature drops when the Viliath comes, attempting to prove the words of the old language are inconsistent.**

**Casey observes something in this chapter which might not be clear. The Viliath's passage through Dreone floods the gorge and the pixies' land. Casey has trouble getting water at the beginning of the story, and now it's everywhere.**

**Iliana11: "There are so many pretty ways to describe blood." Why does blood have a sinister connotation? I guess because it is closely correlated with death. Yet, Jesus shed His blood to give us life! "…this sentence epitomizes the human condition." Cool! You saw that!**

**Delia Anole: "I really believed you were a deep, intricate writer…" Lol. I'm thinking this story out as I go. It's intimidating to know there are personal things in my writing that I won't perceive.** **"You used poignant!" Isn't 'poignant' delicious? I love how one has to savor it to pronounce it. As nymph harbors, Casey and Oliver cannot read the other's thoughts or emotions directly. They only experience the other's reactions through the senses.** **Strong mental response triggers the link between them. At the end of this chapter, Oliver has figured this out. How will he provoke Casey's strong emotions to find her? "Innocence is only highlighted more as it is erased from one." Incredibly insightful observation!**

**Arista Everett June: "Casey seems almost insane at the end…" Yep. She's totally retreating into herself, reacting to what she can't handle. At the point of becoming a nymph harbor, it seems she's forced to go through with it. If you take a good look throughout the story, though, her refusal to decide was a decision all along. She kept deciding to be a little more open, a little more trusting, hoping to find there wasn't any real proof for the warning flags she felt. Oliver was able to introduce his ideas slowly and prepare her for what she would not accept readily. There's a moral there. :o)**

**Healed535: "Granted, it was a pretty traumatic event." Yep. Followed by another traumatic event. Her brain's trying to catch up.** **"Ivan didn't care; he was too selfish." Yes, he **_**was**_** selfish. "Thanks for sharing this great story with us!" You're welcome. Thanks for sharing your thoughts; I love reading them!**

**Quiet Mindreader: "Can she see through the eyes of anyone the dragonflies are listening to?" Great question. No, she can't. Connecting through the senses of the other human nymph harbor is special. Fixed the typo. Thank you! "…almost like she's losing her grasp on reality, and giving into insanity." She's overwhelmed mentally and focuses on her need to protect herself, reverting to simple, childlike logic.** **"And what was with the dragonfly bite?" Another fantastic question! What happens right after the dragonfly bites her? I devoured your review. Thanks again!**


	67. Found

**A/N: I was thrilled to read the great responses to the last chapter. I've tried to thin out some of the crunchy words in chapter 66, and it has been reposted.**

_Recap: Casey was dragged down into the water to meet the gigantic Viliath. (It's similar to a nautilus with a network of light-giving filaments housed in a translucent, mother-of-pearl shell.) It emitted Zource and she drank of it, restoring her body physically. She escapes the Viliath and loses consciousness, only to begin a series of visions that allow her to accompany Oliver through the senses, seeing and hearing his flight on Kapyn and his talk with Zacree, the mouth of the Zourcezervers. It is when she thinks of Ivan that Oliver senses her._

Chapter 67 – Found

"Sezo, wake up." She wanted to open her eyes, but couldn't. How long had she slept? Had Oliver finally found her? His voice was so close.

Gradually her eyes adjusted. She knew where she was immediately. It was the chamber in Kapyn's mountain where the water flowed down into the pool and the sky could be seen above. This was where Oliver had brought her to eat the first time they'd met. Oh, the sensations she had felt then; but where was he now? She took the path beside the cascading waterfall and her eyes surveyed the cavity searchingly. The dragonflies were there and so were the lumins. Everywhere there were the sheets of paper, far more than before. They were resting in pools of water. Her eyes paused at a lump on the bottom step of the way she'd once climbed to follow Zyri up the side of the mountain. She thought she heard a mind rhythm, but it wasn't Oliver's. She knew the soft cacophony of the prince's thoughts, which never left her now but played like an endless song somewhere in the back of her head. To her, it was a new rhythm around which the dragonflies were congregating; and it was human.

"Sezo? Are you with me?" spoke Oliver aloud.

She was with him as he stepped down to the floor of the cavern and walked to the steps, toward the mass she'd espied. It was dingy and saturated, like the papers; but her curiosity grew as she began to comprehend the size of the object at the base of the stone stairway. Her heart beat quickly. No, it wasn't Oliver's strong beat; it was hers, fast and light!

He halted, still a good length away; and Casey wanted to cry out, 'Go on! Go on! I think I know – I know what you've found!'

"Sezo." It was said confidently. "I feel your heart quicken within me." He moved forward then, bringing her closer. "Look," he spoke aloud. Eagerly, her eyes tried to scan the object for confirmation of what she hoped he was showing her. Yet, she was not free to view anything, but what he gazed upon. He bent down to the mound of material – for now she could tell it was made up of a dirty white shirt and a dark jacket which had blended in with the black rock beside it – and his arms took up the heavy mass and rotated it.

Ivan's head rolled; his eyes did not open as he fell forward lifelessly. She took in every detail of that familiar face hungrily. His hair was wet and clumped together; it looked like caramel. There was water in his ear. His face was blanched, which made his short, boyish nose seem even smaller, and his lips held their natural contemptuous curl. She stared at his eyelids, the light-colored lashes thickly saturated. Would they not open? 'Open for me, Ivan. Show me you're okay. Ivan.' _"Ivan!_"

"You speak his name; it is what I thought I heard you speak before. Tell me, Sezo, where are you?"

She awoke with a start and blinked at the light in the sky. There were no strange colors in the clouds; the heavy moisture in the atmosphere was gone. Had she been dreaming? Had she been asleep all this time at the pixies' rock, finally waking to another day in Dreone?

"…me alone! I don't want him to follow me!" Zyri's high-pitched voice began to trickle in.

"Until your wing dies, you cannot replenish your stores. Pixies do not die because of the tear; they die because they drain themselves in fear. Don't do this, my sister!" The plea was laced with desperation.

"I'm not his sister." Zyri spoke condescendingly. "Zendyr (Zayn-der) left us. He left his little brother to be trained to become the mouth in his place. He who was once my brother would not have been so rash with his words as Zifford was to the prince; but he left us. It is because of him that Zifford is dead." Suddenly, she shrieked maniacally, "Do not touch me!"

Casey turned her body slightly and heard something tumble nearby.

"If I could have given my life for my brother's, I would have. I wanted to return with you and with Zifford when you petitioned me for the Zource, but I knew I would bring you shame."

"Why? Why didn't _you_ die instead? You are nothing. You are wingtorn; you are a deserter." Zyri's words were quiet and cold, yet they pierced Casey's soul with their emotion.

"Perhaps there is a purpose for me."

"No. The wingtorn have no purpose. The wingtorn are tribeless." Casey heard an odd zip-zipping which grated on her ears "I have one last thorn to pluck out: this one must not return home."

"No. You cannot fly. You will die with her."

"As long as she dies, I am pleased to die with her." Zyri gnashed at the words, the hatred pouring from her lips. Casey understood then: Zyri wished do away with her because she had caused the pixie to be wingtorn.

She made to move, but her arm was entangled. She could feel the material around her neck – the cloak. It was serving to confine her. She rocked forward and the ground crumbled beneath her shoulder. It was then she espied the gorge far, far below. Casey gave a small cry before stifling the sound. She didn't dare breathe. All it would take on that dangerous ledge was one false move.

Her vision went dark and she dug her fingers into the porous, damp soil. "Sezo, where are you?" she heard him ask.

"Help me," she eked through clenched teeth, frozen stiff with dread.

"Sing the song you sang in the mountain. Sing it in your head, Sezo. The dragonflies will come."

Sing the song in her head? She could think of nothing but falling; yet, the tune returned to her:

~0~

'Bobby Shaftoe's been to sea

Silver buckles on his knee

He'll come back and marry me

Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.

~0~

'Bobby Shaftoe's bright and fair

Combing down his yellow hair…'

~0~

There were sounds of a fluttering skirmish above. "Let me go! Let me bite her!"

Casey, continuing to hold her breath, needed air. She struggled to concentrate on the song in her head…

~0~

"Bobby Shaftoe's bright and fair

Combing down his yellow hair

He's my own for evermore

Bonny…"

~0~

A filmy wing tickled her cheek, and she thought it was Zyri come to administer the lethal bite. She opened her eyes when the dragonfly perched upon the bridge of her nose lightly, and saw a shadow pass above just before her vision darkened again.

"It's Kapyn!" cried Zendyr.

"Sezo, we have found you." Again, it was as though Oliver was speaking into her ear.

She heard the chunks of dirt and rock falling around her under the force of the dragon's unfurling pinions, and felt the ground crumble beneath her knees.

"I can't see!" she screamed, her hair whipping wildly in the wind created by a massive flap of the dragon's wings. Her hand grasped blindly at a root. She screamed again as she dropped, dangling as the clumps of loose soil collected on her face. Her grip was already giving way; the meager anchor was sliding out of her hand.

Kapyn rose underneath her foot. She shrieked and kicked at the dragon in frenzy. She blinked and saw nothing, as Oliver's voice recurred, instructing, "Let go. He will catch you."

Just then the root was torn from her hand, and she fell onto the great reptilian pate. Kapyn's neck arched upward as he gained elevation. The scales along his neck and back were tightly knit and overlapped each other so that she slid quickly. She kicked her legs under her to slow herself, lifting up thin, dull layers to expose the hard plates of the dragon's armor. The motion caused her knee to catch the exposed sharp edge of the underscales, slicing her skin open. She tumbled backwards before she stopped, face downward, pressed against his filmy wing. It was like finely woven netting, reinforced by a thin network of osseous material, which the fingers of her left hand latched onto tenaciously. There she stayed, tucked close, her stomach lurching with each sway of the beast's flight. When she was able to turn her head, she found she was sprawled across the small, right wing. With teeth chattering, she untangled her captive arm and lifted her head again. Inching forward, she grabbed the ridge of the hollow-boned frame where it rose from the dragon's back. She held on as Kapyn rocked and began to tilt.

"NO!" she yelled out, as her body fell sideways. The wing beneath her was moving. Immediately, the dragon made a brief swoop, and the wing was lifted off his scales, catching the undercurrent. The left wing tucked under the right, creating a leaf-shaped platform on which she now glided centimeters above his scales. She was weightless and airborne as Kapyn cut through the still atmosphere.

_There is nothing to fear._

The dragon extended his neck and soared upward at a gradual pace again. They flew into the clouds, combing through layer after layer until emerging. Helical formations rose upon the cloud canopy like a heavenly forest. She craned her neck to see what was before them as Kapyn weaved in and out of the twisting trees of fog, his wings cutting through them. The mist began to separate and she felt the sun beat down across her back and head like a raging flame. A hot, tempestuous blast blew, shifting her; but she held on. In the distance, there appeared a dark spike of rock rising out of the clouds. Its narrowing stem blossomed at the crown toward the fiery orb in the sky.

Where was he taking her? Was this Drakkytbet? Kapyn took people to Drakkytbet; Oliver had told her that. She clutched the wings even tighter. 'No, Kapyn. Turn around!'

They continued straight for the rock until Kapyn dove into the clouds again. Casey held her breath, falling while floating on the passage of air beneath the thin wings. The green seeped into the gray and white as they drew closer to the land. She espied the shining black mountain in the distance; he was taking her to his lair. She was going to Ivan!

* * *

**A/N: 'Underscales' isn't a word. It represents the newer scales of Kapyn's armor which are sharp and impenetrable. Dragons grow scales like skin, the older layers drying and separating until the dragon molts. Kapyn has softened outer layers because of the lack of sunlight he receives. (Generally, molted dragon's skin would be too brittle to use as a cloak.)**

**Iliana11: "You know, in a way, the character of Oliver represents so much of the world's worldview. 'My truth is my own.'" *nods head* Truth is inconvenient, even painful, to one who doesn't want to follow it; and there is no way to justify 'my truth is my own'. That life creed is diametrically opposed to the concept of truth. Who is one opposing when refusing to acknowledge truth? John 14:6**

**Delia Anole: I'm sorry about the massive words! It was meant to lift and enthrall in the midst of Casey's peril and discoveries. I'm trying to tame my crunchy word monster. Truly. "I love how Casey has a made desire and need to live..." She had it all along. In dangerous situations, where a person can make a choice, there's a tendency to risk it; but when death is fast approaching, instinct responds. Did you catch what Oliver used to bring Casey to consciousness?**

**AJ: The "best fairy tale [you've] ever read on ff"? Let me just repeat that for my vanity's sake. You think it's the best fairy tale you've ever- okay, I'll stop. Can I act smug for a couple of days, though? Can I swagger into the library, raise my eyebrow coolly and admit to the librarian, "Well, **_**someone**_** thinks I have the best fairy tale they've ever read on fanfiction." Yes, I just repeated it for the third time. Crafty, aren't I. Seriously, thanks.**

**Arista Everett June: Yeah, introducing her ability to see through Oliver's eyes, etc. had to be revealed as she would have experienced it rather than explaining in advance. Listening to "I Saw" right now. :) I did eat too much turkey and pie. *sigh* "Never Alone" reminds me of **_**Within Temptation**_**'s sound influenced by **_**Nickelback's**_** harmony. I like it.**

**Quiet Mindreader: Mouth the word, 'why' repeatedly. The Viliath wasn't trying to speak; it just looked that way because it had such a human-like face. It was taking in some water before it ate the lit up contents inside of the Zource bubble it released. Except for the Gnosis' control of Kapyn, Thon is the most intelligent animal Casey's met up to this point. He doesn't multiply three-digit numbers in his head or entertain himself with anagrams, much less quote passages of the **_**Iliad**_** or discuss Plinian philosophy (which, of course, the rest of us can't help but do often). No one Oliver knows has ever seen the Viliath close up and lived. Oliver didn't know she was alive until he heard a couple of her heartbeats. Btw, please ignore the ridiculous things I said about Thon… of course he can do all that. :D**

**Ladyinshiningarmour: I'm not offended at all; I don't even know what you said. Did you write it in a review? In a PM? Whatever we were talking about, just PM me again; I'm really curious about what you said now. "Casey wasn't actually present in the cavern was she?" No, she wasn't there; just saw what Oliver saw and heard what he heard. Thanks for returning to my story after brain-debilitating exams.**


	68. Raging

**A/N: Gasp! There's a chapter posted? Where has the writer of Dfly Prince been all this time? Editing this story in hopes of publishing it. :)**

_Recap: Casey was taken from the place of the nymphs by the Viliath after becoming a nymph harbor. Because of the encounter with the Viliath, she is unconscious, but holds a link with Oliver, seeing his experiences through his eyes, hearing what he hears. The dragonfly prince uses this link to wake her by showing her Ivan. Kapyn rescues her from falling into the gorge, but not before Zyri the wingtorn makes known her intent to kill Casey, even if the pixie dies to accomplish it. Casey is borne to Kapyn's cave on the dragon._

Chapter 68 – Raging

Kapyn flew to his mountain, sinking his claws into the dark stone as his heavy wings swayed forward. Without the current of air, the smaller wings on which Casey lay rested on his back, separating. She fell to the plateau roughly, striking her wounded knee on the rocky ground. Kapyn emitted an angry bellow of flame, and she scurried quickly along the side of the mountain. He was twisting and writhing furiously. It didn't matter that her hands and legs were shaking from her tight grip while flying. In his state, if the dragon caught sight of her, she had no doubt she'd be vaporized to blown ash; and that was the best case scenario.

Finding a place that connected to the land in shallow slopes, she took two leaps before reaching the elevation of the bushes on the hillside. She ran for cover, ensconcing herself underneath a set of large leaves growing from a knotted mass of vines. The sole of her right foot was stinging as she peeped from behind the foliage. The ireful dragon stretched himself across the grand mound of stone and slithered, half lizard-like, toward the place where the pixies had marched the animals for his feedings. Again, he thrashed his scaled body while the flames scorched the trees.

She scanned the path leading to his lair as another funneling jet of flame shot upward. She needed better shelter than a few leaves to keep from being burned by the dragon in his tantrum. Since the time she'd almost been human pâté for the leopard, it had become her habit to keep to the routes Ivan had shown her. Now she tramped deeper into the overgrowth, where nettles and creepers had not been crushed or pushed aside by a previous explorer. Glancing down at her bare foot, plastered with wet dirt, sticks and pieces of leafage, she wished she hadn't lost one of her sneakers. Another brief look at her shoe, and she accepted the fact that there was no way to share it with both feet. Her eyes traveled to her injured knee only cursorily. There was no more time to agonize over inconveniences; she must move or become toast.

In she went, pushing through the thickets of saturated flora which were quickly crumpling due to Kapyn's wrath. Minutes later, she struggled to untangle herself from a persistent climber when a rustle stole her attention. She looked up sharply as dragon flames tore through the foliage meters behind. Had Kapyn sensed some danger? Was that why he was reacting in such a vehement way? She began to back away, scouring the heat-curled plants around her. If she should move closer to the dragon, wouldn't that force whatever was with her out there to retreat? She felt the warmth of ravenous heat across her skin and knew the seared land in back of her was no haven of safety. Dread crept over her sensibilities; and, in that most inopportune moment, her vision fled. She dropped to the ground, cowering, holding her breath. She realized it was foolish to play hide and seek like a tiny child with the false reasoning that if she could see no one, no one could see her. Yet, what alternative was there? She felt the edge of a rotting stump beside her, and crouched against it, inhaling the acrid smoke. Calling out Oliver's name could be the worst mistake at the moment, but she was sorely tempted to try it. Would he hear her? At times when she'd lost her sight, he'd spoken. Why wasn't it happening now?

A multiplicity of sounds surrounded her at once: dragonflies. She heard them and felt them land. A picture blossomed into view filled with a spectrum of green and gray hues. It confused her because it looked exactly like her current surroundings. Then she recognized the small figure which knelt against the dark, soaked wood wearing a worn sneaker on one foot while the other was covered in brown glops from the forest floor. The denim over both knees was shredded – one leg darkened in a curved line with blood – and the neck and shoulders of the t-shirt were covered by a ring of shimmering material, stacked at the sides of the face. The figure pushed it away with an expression of wonder. The eyes were unfocused, but staring intently. The expression changed, registering shock. She saw the faded freckles across the nose and cheeks, the skin beaten pink by the heat, below large, blue eyes; only traces of dark brown eyebrows were above them, burned away days ago. With mouth opened in surprise, the once rounded, childlike countenance seemed lengthened and angular. She was looking at herself and could hardly conceive of what she saw. Was this person really she? How she had changed! She looked thinner, and something in her expression belied the trial of her days in Dreone. Accompanying these changes, a brightness exuded from her skin.

She reached out her hand – no, Oliver was reaching out _his_ hand – as she rose to standing. His touch ran through her in a shiver which peeled away his perspective from her gaze so that she could peer out from her own eyes again. Yet, she wasn't really seeing through them at all, but all around, hovering in some splintered dimension. Her senses raced at the ultra-awareness of what was beyond herself. She took in the shape of Oliver's solemn eyes, the smooth sweep of his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose as it extended to meet his clear brow; but her mind was focused on the arc of fire crackling and surrounding them as they stared at each other, the whistle of the air across dragonflies' wings, the churning of Kapyn's insides as his tail scraped the rock many meters away. Time seemed immoveable while Oliver's eyes looked into hers in his serene manner. She could sense his reaction in a myriad of ways, from the pounding in her ears of a heartbeat not her own to the minuscule intake of breath brushing across his teeth. The flashing rhythm of their minds joined and separated, touching like timid, curious fingertips.

It was the rise in volume of an insistent drone which caused her to stir mentally; it brought to mind thoughts of her grandpa's field. She looked up to find groups of dragonflies gathering to swirl in patterns. They were gaining speed, and she tensed her muscles anxiously.

"They are preparing for their flight through the Karshra," explained Oliver.

"I was afraid. I thought you were – were…" The comment was unrelated, and her tone sounded forced. She was reeling from the broken connection with him, her hands shaking. Yet, she trembled all the more when it occurred to her how close she was to the Karshra. She was going home. Home!

"You feared I was a Gread? All but their bravest would have retreated when the sky told them the Viliath had entered the Ebydd. There is little shelter here when the Ebydd floods."

Her eyes shifted to the mountain as she considered the safety of another. Oliver answered her thought. "Your friend Ivan was carried in by the water." To Casey's troubled expression, he added, "The pixies have bitten him, but he breathes."

The dragon sent a swiping burst of flame to lick the branches above their heads, and they fled deeper into the wood.

"What is _wrong_ with him?" she exclaimed exasperatedly, stopping to catch her breath.

"Kapyn demands to be fed. He will continue until the feeders are forced to do their task."

Casey cast her eyes over the burning vegetation. "Will the Fleshgatherers come?"

"Yes. They must serve the dragon." He spoke with quiet finality. A sweltering cloud of smoke followed another wave of fervid flame.

"I wish he had Itra. He'd go to sleep if he ate that, right?"

"The Gnosis is denying him Itra. He must wait until he has been fed to sleep."

"Why?"

"To weaken him."

Casey nodded. "I'm for that." She looked around her restlessly, aware that the dragonflies above them were racing through series after series of whorls.

The prince stepped toward her, gripping something curved between his fingers. He caught the cloak at her neck, and she raised her hands in stark defense. "No!"

He pulled away in surprise. "Sezo, what do you fear from me?"

She had no answer and dropped her arms, feeling silly and confused. "What were you going to do?"

"This." He lifted the Tsiprith talon and carefully began to cut away the lose threads. "You must use your nymph covering." The layers of her cloak were released, light and springy. He extended the material over her shoulders to her feet; and, holding up each of her arms, he pressed the strange substance to itself. It adhered, creating wing-like sleeves. He wrapped it over her hands, showing her how to entwine her fingers to form gloves. Lastly, he brought the covering forward to conceal her face. The prince's hand brushed her cheek, and a shivery surge raced through her, combing through her nerves and gathering in her spine. She pulled her face away quickly. That link between them was more attuned to her senses now, as though knowing where to go. Disoriented, her heart slowed and raced, like a reflex lingering, as the effect of his touch lessened. She stared at him with uncertainty. His eyes were almost fierce, as he told her, "I will always protect you, Sezo."

Oliver's lips became a straight line as his gaze fell from hers to something behind her. Casey watched out of the corner of her eye as a tiger stealthily padded across the charred leaves close by before threading back through the undergrowth, ignoring them. The thrumming sounds of pixies' wings grew. The prince covered his head with his cowl, giving Casey to understand the robes were to protect them from the pixies, not the fire.

The roar of a lion was swallowed up by the blast of a fiery ball which streaked in a blaze of flame to race toward them. Oliver grabbed her hand, and she tried to keep up, aware that the robe was sticking to her injured knee. Once the fire found trees in its path to consume, they stopped running and doubled back through the forest until she wasn't sure where she was going.

"He has become wild in his rage. The pixies have pressed him too far," Oliver observed, as they trekked through the forest.

When they reached the clearing, she saw the yawning mouth of Kapyn's cave and began to run toward it eagerly. Yet, dormant fears awakened; the meeting with the creature under the waters of Dreone flooded her mind, paralyzing her. She stopped, rooted to the ground and nothing could check the horror-filled remembrance. She could only endure it as her vision left her. In her mind she was still beneath the waves, reliving the moments when the Zource had been awhirl.

A hunched figure concealed in a cloak came into view, and she knew she was seeing herself through Oliver's eyes again. His voice spoke within her, "What do you see?"

"In the water… red and blue lights… inside a shell." Casey watched herself draw her arms to her chest tightly as the tentacles lengthened in her mind's eye. With a low voice, she continued. "There's a face. It looks like a human face - like a woman's." The lips were moving, speaking to her again, but she didn't want to tell him. It was too awful to put into words.

Soothingly, he told her, "I would like to see what it is you are remembering from the water, to see it just as I am looking through your eyes now; but it is the vision of the mind you are experiencing. It has awakened great emotion in you which connects us as nymph harbors to give what we see to the other. Yet, you must consider the danger of Kapyn's fire and take cover in the cave."

She was shaking again – or, perhaps, she'd never stopped. She clung to him, and they entered the corridor together as her own perspective began to bleed back into sight. She looked to Oliver, his brow furrowed with concern as he held her shoulders to steady her; for she was swaying.

"The creature in the water was the Viliath. The clans have many stories of she who lights the path of the Ebydd and covers the waters with silken webs." Casey made herself focus on his words, pushing back the fear that had gripped her. "It is said that the one who sees the light of the Viliath in the passing, sees far, like the great-winged birds." He helped her step across the sharp rocks before he told her, "When they come to the crest of the gorge to celebrate, some remain to brave the flood of the Ebydd that they might see the light pass beneath the waters. The region there is the last to flood; and, there, the passage is not wide." He hesitated long enough for her eyes to seek his face again. "I have known of those who looked upon that light. But to see the _face_ of the Viliath... Sezo, no one has ever lived to tell of it."

* * *

**A/N: What did you think of Casey's intense mental awareness when she and Oliver touched?**

**Delia Anole: You aren't stupid at all; my amateur writing is to blame. I've been ridding the story of unnecessary words and vague descriptions (not on here, but in the final draft). "I noticed that you seem to know quite alot about dragons…" I, too, am very surprised at my knowledge of the subject. :D "I'm surprised the description of IVan didn't include filth." This chapter lets you know he was brought in by water, so he's had a bit of a bath. "How long ago was it when you wrote about a chapter in the story with Ivan in it?" It's been awhile (ch. 51). I'm actually missing him, too. Shocking, eh?**

**Healed535: "Ugh, I bet Ivan isn't even in the cave." Hm. Would Oliver be that cruel? Thanks!**

**Quiet Mindreader: The sheets of paper have repeatedly caused confusion, not only for Dfly P's readers, but for the characters in the story. They always seem to be a distraction, making it difficult for the reader to discern what is important. That is one theme of the paper throughout. There will be another example of this in the next chapter. You figured out why Ivan was wet! Cool. Casey was southward in the gorge, still on the pixies' side but not near the Fleshgatherers' rock. She just thought that for a split-second because the sky was back to normal. Yes, you got the whole pixie family tree there. Zifford was Zyri's and Zendyr's brother.** **(Zendyr) "Was he wingtorn before Zyri became wingtorn?" Yes.**

**Iliana11: Pixies define themselves by the task of their tribe. Zyri says, "The wingtorn have no purpose. The wingtorn are tribeless." 'Purpose' and 'tribe' are synonymous in her mind. Zendyr is open to the idea that a pixie can have a purpose beyond that. This is an allegorical discussion of the mindset of humanity when one's focus and definition of self becomes dependent on earthly roles. Our minds tend to dwell on the physical, but we have the capability to see beyond earthly purpose to a greater spiritual purpose for existence. Unfortunately, sometimes it takes getting wingtorn to learn to see it.**

**Arista Everett June: Pencil bombs? *ducks for cover* Yes, Zyri found Casey there. Casey saw Ivan through Oliver's eyes. The link with Oliver allows them both to communicate through their senses of seeing and hearing. This chapter hints that touch will play a part as a sense they can communicate through. **_"…the minuscule intake of breath brushing across his teeth."_


	69. Pixie Bitten

Chapter 69 – Pixie Bitten

Oliver watched her, and she knew he was wondering how she had escaped the great sea creature. Finally free of the terrible flashback, she had no desire to dwell on it. Instead, she continued to limp along the corridor. Without embers burning, the cave was dark, as if abandoned. There were puddles of water everywhere. As she took the curve to espy Kapyn's bed, she saw the flanks of the chamber and steps to the platform were covered in patches of gloom. Only the languid rays of light from the rhombus-shaped opening above relieved the engulfing blackness, and even that was obscured by the smoke of Kapyn's fiery ire. Her eyes flew to the recess, where the etchings of the dragonflies remained cold and lifeless in the shadows.

"Oliver, the portal!" she cried, slipping down into the vacant pit. The small window darkened above, and she heard Kapyn's feasting but did not slow until she stood before the stone wall.

"The Gnosis has sealed the Karshra."

She touched the hard surface, sliding her hand across the raised engraving. Sealed. The cold feel of that impenetrable stone seeped through her glove, and a sense of injustice arose in her chest. Oliver had told her it would be four days - four days! – until she would be taken home by the dragonflies! Now the dragonflies were all around her, preparing for the flight through the portal, and it was sealed? How could it be sealed? What did that mean? How was she going to return? She stared at the stone wall as Ziad's words came back to her when she had insisted there had to be a way to return home.

"_No. There isn't."_

Had the pixie's words been true, after all? Had she walked through endless caves, broken her wrist, been imprisoned by pixies, become a nymph harbor against her own misgivings and survived the Viliath only for the door home to be closed in her face? She clenched her teeth to resist the helpless fury that threatened to overpower her; but it was a dawning question which kept the anger down: What else had Ziad told the truth about? Was Ivan really there, as she'd seen him in her dream? She slewed round to find Oliver tossing layers of pages to the sides of the dragon's dwelling, clearing them away to expose the floor.

"What do you mean, 'sealed'?" It left her mouth like an accusation.

He glanced up quickly. "As you see, it cannot be opened by the transference of the dragonflies. The Gnosis controls the passage between-"

"So, when will the Gnosis open it again?"

"I don't know." He motioned to what he had uncovered. "But I think it has something to do with this."

She knew she had come to stand beside him, but only in body. Her heart was yearning to run to the place near the pool in the mountain. She stared indifferently on the faded colored markings which had been concealed by layers of tossed sheets of script. Here was no primitively etched drawing, like that displayed on the portal wall. This was a well-crafted mosaic with twining red and white banners amorphously laced around its entirety. Figures fashioned from tiny stones, some still partially hidden beneath more pages, encircled an oval framed in pale azures. Within it a human head had been formed of silvery tiles. It emerged from a pool of cool shades, dimmed now where the pieces might have been vivid once. Only the outline of the chin, cheek and nose were visible. Bluish argent arms were lifted high above the upturned head, which clasped the sides of a coronet, a band with a crimson ball in the center. Like a cluster of red pearls, the jewel's rounded pieces formed a relief rising slightly above the puzzle-like design.

She moved back, stepping off the continued picture beneath the oval. In the scene a four-limbed, dusky giant leaned back on its trunk-like hind legs. It had the mouth of a monstrous canine, its teeth bared at the tusked mastodon caught in its sinewy arm. Its other bear-like paw seemed to lacerate the sky as a single claw pierced the wing of a dragon-shape above. The otherworldly beauty of the figure in the oval was a striking contrast to the beast's fierce expression, which possessed every measure of reveling in his brutish strength.

"What is that?" she asked.

"I have wondered whether it is the Iothun," spoke Oliver.

He drew attention to the dark creatures which created an elaborate decoration around the central image. "Dragons," he said, and she scanned more carefully what the banners encompassed, growing impatient to know what it all meant. There were dozens and dozens of dragons, all serpentine in their poses in flight around the framed figure. The ones from whose mouths fire issued were so cleverly portrayed the flames almost flickered. Her eyes traveled to the giant creature below, reexamining the dragon caught in the great claw in its attempts to join its kind above. Along the landscape, at the heels of the great beast, she noticed less distinctively fashioned, smaller animals before her eyes returned to the serene figure of silver-blue at the center.

Looking back to the carved recess in the wall, Casey puzzled over how the picture at her feet was connected. "I don't understand what it has to do with the portal," she admitted.

He knelt beside the picture and pressed his hand upon a section of the fragments comprising the head of the portrait. He removed his hand, and a brilliant, golden amethyst sheen now remained, outlining where his palm had been.

"Even a small amount of warmth alters finest sezo." He brought his eyes to hers meaningfully, and the gaze caused her to turn away; for her distrust lingered. Oliver was speaking in his strange riddles again. She felt now that he was insincere; he wasn't sure enough of her to speak plainly. Yet, she shook off her frustration; it didn't matter whether she understood or not. She wanted to know only whether he had lied to her.

"I need to go to Ivan." Determinedly, she crossed the lower elevation of Kapyn's bed and around the opposite side of the platform without waiting for him. The eagerness to know if she would meet her friend grew as she wound through the stalagmites and narrow passages. Entering the chamber with the stream, she noticed how fast the water was moving. The lumins did not hover over it, though their lights shown all around the cavern. The slanted path downward into the open basin of the mountain was slick. She worked to brace herself from slipping with the sole of her lone shoe. She could see a mound lying in the same place as in her dream. The feeling of relief was suspended as she neared it. The mass was too small; it was only the knotted bundle of clothes Ivan had used as a bag. He was not there.

"I have moved him." Oliver's voice drifted over the cavity in the mountain, and Casey looked up to find him at the upper level.

"Where?" she said curtly, trying to control her anxiety. He pointed toward the waterfall. She skirted the cascade to find a large stone behind the water affixed so that it looked like a door hanging by one lower hinge. Energetically, she applied her weight to shift it. The stone rocked, but returned to its position. She stepped out from behind the water as the prince reached her. She didn't ask him to move the slab, but expected that he would - telling herself he _must _move it. Was this just a game he was playing; would he really lead her to Ivan? She stood away as he caused the boulder to scrape against the stone floor, creating a sliver of a gap. The blackness within gaped at her as she turned sidewise to enter the narrow opening.

The light of the lumins was within. They flew in rings about her robe, making the illumination easier to register. Her eyes quickly adjusted as she searched for her missing friend. The roof was composed of craggy layers from which dripped water incessantly. On the floor were clumps of moist ash, scattered stones and other debris. The water had flooded here, as well. There were pelts of fur hung high on the walls, the longer pieces exhibiting dark lines of saturation where the water had risen to meet them. Books and objects were lodged in rocky nooks. Streaked and faded by the recent washing, chalky gray sketches were outlined on stones; some of them looked to be maps. They were Oliver's things, she knew.

The prince's figure shrouded the light that had broken through the flowing water outside the dwelling. She watched as he disappeared behind another big stone resting beside the entrance inside the room. He pushed the stone forward, shutting out the light reflected through the waterfall. Her heart beat fast. Was it a trap? He passed by her without a look, and she hesitated before following him, taking the few shallow steps into a closet-like niche. There a large pelt was hung like a hammock, the ends anchored between the cracks of stone. Oliver pulled back a flap of the animal skin, and Casey saw a face, partially hidden.

"Ivan!" she whispered, as her guide moved away silently. Her lips had begun to spread into a smile as she approached when the remembrance of their last meeting met her in the recognition of his features. She suddenly wanted to back away again as confusion welled up inside of her. Had she really wanted to see him? Why? "Ivan," she repeated with an irrational fear that he would suddenly open his eyes to narrow into a threatening glare; but he did not stir. The old ache awoke. How much she wished he would understand why she'd made the choices she had. She needed him to shrug and say it didn't matter like he had when she'd broken the vine-rope. Hesitantly, she approached until she could hear his light breathing.

"A pixie bit him?" she asked in a strained tone, never taking her eyes from the features in repose.

"_Pixies_ bit him." Her concern about Ivan's predicament prevailed over any reaction toward the stiffness in Oliver's tone.

She pulled back Ivan's shirt collar timidly and turned his head to view the tiny bite marks. There was one beneath his jaw and another close behind his ear. The bites were so small, the areas slightly reddened where the skin was broken. Oliver came to stand beside her, pulling back Ivan's sleeve briskly. Casey gasped. There were at least a dozen in a path up his arm. Taking the ends of the cuff, she began to lift the material above his elbow to reveal more bites. There were so many! She took a step back from her bitten friend solemnly; yet, she couldn't turn her eyes away from his face.

"There is Zource to revive him." Oliver motioned to a cranny in the rock laden with many objects near her elbow. Casey's mouth opened in surprise when she saw the pouch. Oh, yes! The talk with Zakree had been real, too! How could she have forgotten that? Yet, ever since she'd awakened in the gorge, her memory had been clouded. Her mind was treating her like an enemy, hiding things she wanted to remember and forcing her to think on things she wanted to forget.

Something held her back from taking up the pouch, and her eyes traveled to a small bunch of whitish material sitting next to it. She reached to touch it instead and realized the fabric was familiar. She pulled out her missing socks, accidentally removing an object from the natural shelf that clattered when it hit the hard surface of the floor. Quickly, she knelt to pick up what had dropped and recognized what it was.

"Oliver, is this Ivan's knife?" she asked.

"If it is, the son of Zbori Fleshgatherer possessed it. He boasted to his sister of using the weapon to rid his tribe of me. He was rewarded for his betrayal."

She shook her head slowly. How treacherous the pixies were! How could she ever have believed they were harmless or helpful? Casey lifted the knife gingerly. Gripping the weapon made her wary. She put the knife back in its place; but the socks she balled up, peeling back her glove from her wrist to stuff them into the sleeve of her cloak. "I definitely wanted these back," she added.

He reached around her to take up Ivan's knife, depositing it back into her other hand. "Return it to your friend when he wakes."

She looked to Ivan's peaceful expression, and reluctantly turned to the container of Zource from the depression in the wall. Briefly, her hand rested on the pouch before she dropped the knife beside it with a dull clatter. "I can't do this."

Oliver let her pass into the first chamber, and there she paced the small circumference of the room. He didn't speak to her, but watched her quietly. She couldn't seem to come to terms with finding Ivan. She knew what ailed him. She knew Zource could heal him, but she didn't know that she wanted to be the one to help him. Why? Why couldn't she push away the warnings hampering what should have been an easy decision? Of course she needed to revive him! Yet, she was afraid. The dragonflies' endless sussurations reverberated around her head, becoming louder and louder. She shooed them away repeatedly as she tried to think, but they returned each time, reacting to her heightened state.

Finally, she looked to Oliver. "If I revive him, I know what he'll do. That knife – he's got another one. Did you see it? Was it on him?" Oliver shook his head. "He's going to use it. He wants to kill Kapyn; and, I told you, he's threatened to kill you. If he uses it on Kapyn, he'll be worse off than he is now. If he comes after you, one of you will kill the other."

"Is that a choice you can make for him? Or for me?" She stared into Oliver's eyes, desiring to find what he spoke was not what he really meant. Her doubts returned. Was Oliver really doing this to help Ivan?

"Why haven't you given him the Zource yourself? If you wanted to help him, you could have. Why do you want me to do it?"

"He means much to you. Your heart has no peace when you believe harm has come to him. I thought to give you peace."

"But he doesn't give me peace. Not really. If I do this – if I give him Zource – I'm going to be fighting with him to keep him from going after the dragon or you… and probably a bunch of other stuff."

"You chose to save his life once. You must choose again this time."

"It's not really my business. I mean, what if you'd never found him? What if he'd gotten bit up in the woods somewhere? I would never have known about it. Oliver, this whole time I've been thinking how impossible it would be for him to still be alive. I think I'm okay with that." Even the persuasive tone of her voice betrayed her true feelings to herself.

The prince stepped toward her, his face bent to hers. "You speak of how you will act one way, but I hear the beating of your heart. You are not at peace with your decision."

Her eyes searched his. "I don't want to do it. I'm afraid what will happen. He's so – so unpredictable! And angry," she added.

"Would you have me tell you what is right?" He smiled calmly. "There is no right. Free yourself of the sense that would force you to do what you believe to be a detriment to your happiness, Casey."

The burden seemed to lift from her. "Yes," she agreed, thoughtfully. "Giving him Zource wouldn't make things any easier or change anything. He'll come after you… or Kapyn. It's like having to choose which way he's going to die!" She spoke callously, embracing the immediate relief she'd gained from these reflections; but her brow was still creased with discontent. Though the pinches to her conscience had lessened, they had not been completely choked out.

He went to the entrance and pushed back the stone. She stood to leave; but, as she approached the exit, she looked up to ask him one more question, "If he came after you, would you kill him?"

He watched her intently before answering, "Use the Zource, Sezo. Revive him. You have my word: he will not die at my hand."

* * *

**A/N: My beta, Tater748, asked, "So the artwork is made of sezo?" The silver-blue figure in the oval is composed of sezo tiles.**

**Healed535: "How can she possibly go home now?" Good question. Casey will be visiting that soon. "He has never given her reason to fear him, though, so she should feel safe with him." This chapter lets you know that her mind isn't clear. She was unconsciously reacting to the last time she saw that talon. "Worth the wait!" Oh, thanks! You can't know what a comfort it is to read that. I know it's frustrating to step back into the story after a few weeks.**

**Quiet Mindreader: "But why have the pixies bitten him?" Because they're angry the dragonfly prince tricked them, and the wild humans they incited to come over and kill him have failed. A general flare up of human-hating is going on, and Ivan happens to be human and half-drowned. Easy prey. Fleshgatherers feed the dragon. Feeding him on the rock as he burns their forests down isn't their preferred way for obvious reasons. Right now they are in rebellion, though. Their world is upside down because they've been ignorantly obeying a human, and Zbori's daughter (basically royalty) is now wingtorn and had to leave the tribe because of it. The Zourcezervers have the task of guarding and clearing the mouth of the Zource; they always have. Oliver's comment about the vision of the mind meant she was seeing something in her mind's eye. He can only see through her physical vision, not knowing her thoughts or seeing her thought images. Poor Louisa. :D I've fixed the typo. Thank you so much for your amazing encouragement and support. You are a wonderful friend to me.**

**Delia Anole: "We were all asked to give a short list of our favorite books… Dragonfly Prince (despite not being published) was on the list." Really? Wow. Here I am feeling so badly that I haven't posted in awhile, and you go and tell me something awesome like that. *blubbers for a minute. (But it's happy blubbering, so don't worry.)* "In fact, you've connected them in everyway BUT physically." I write to read a story that draws on the many facets of love we all have the capability of experiencing. Elizabeth Gaskell helped broaden the concept for me through **_**Wives and Daughters**_** and **_**Mary Barton**_**. Not that I think I've accomplished it with Dfly P, but there's joy in the journey. :)**

**Alexa Rg: Hi! "By the way, your authors note at the end of every chapter sometimes makes me laugh my head off!" Yay, I'm funny! Unfortunately, I laugh at my own jokes. :P It's nice to know you're laughing with me.**


	70. Diluted

**A/N: 3 things were updated in chapter 69 -**

**1. Kapyn's 'dudgeon' has been changed to 'ire'. It was just too archaic. *sigh***

**2. Casey couldn't pocket her socks with the nymph cloak on. Instead, she stuffed them in her sleeve.**

**3. Thanks to Quiet Mindreader, the conversation about Ivan going after Oliver, then the dragon, has been edited.**

Chapter 70 – Diluted

She bent her head, resigned to the task. Whatever impending disasters came from bringing Ivan back to consciousness would not be in her power to alter; yet, reviving him was. Unlike Oliver, she felt the duty keenly. He knew it. He did not press her to hold to what his own decision would be. It was relieving not to feel the weight of his influence. She had felt it before at the place of the nymphs when he had urged her to become a nymph harbor. Why was he allowing her to help Ivan when she wasn't sure she wanted to? She considered this only briefly as she followed him back to where Ivan lay. From a corner shelf he brought forth a miniature gourd-like object, shaped like a small bowl at its base with its top flattened.

"You may give him Zource in this." Remembering how awkward it had been the last time she'd tried to pour the substance into Ivan's mouth, she accepted it readily. He tucked the pouch into the side of it and realized the transfer could be done without contacting the liquid at all. He handed her the container, and its feel awakened a memory: the first time she'd tasted Zource.

"This was the bowl I drank from that night..."

"I would never have introduced Zource to you, but the pixies deceived me in instructing Ivan to give you that lethal dose of nectar. I realized then how easily I could lose you and the necessity of enforcing their obedience. I charged Zbori's heir to report your whereabouts and actions to me and enjoined that, as long as the tribe saw to your safety and care, I would see to it that their rock remained intact."

"Why did you trust the pixies at all?" she wondered aloud.

"They know this land; and they keep it, though they are ignorant of what they possess. Nowhere else is there the abundance of life and quietness. Even what is found in the waters that flow into the Death Cove - which are destructive to humans - cannot thrive for any time here."

"The pixies' bite can be as bad as what is in the Death Cove," Casey mused, as she drew near to Ivan. Suddenly, she felt a dormant emotion stir as she lifted his head. In all the time while crossing the northern range, she had wished to know he was safe, to see that he did not endanger himself. As she looked down at his closed eyes, she knew it was true what Oliver had said about her heart when it came to Ivan. Strangely, she understood then that the unwillingness to help him had stemmed from this curious desire for his safety. How could that be?

Tilting the filled bowl to his pasty lips, she carefully poured a little into his mouth. A small stream ran down his cheek as she laid his head back in the folds of the hammock and stepped back. A thought occurred to her, and she pleaded with Oliver in a whisper, "Please go. I don't want him to see you. Not yet."

He did as she asked, and she heard the sounds of the stone being moved from the entrance. She waited with an expectant expression, staring at Ivan's motionless features. Yet, he made no sign of returning to consciousness.

"Maybe I didn't give him enough," she admitted to herself perplexedly. This time she poured until the liquid overflowed to his chin and cheeks. She didn't retreat to await the results this time, but held the sides of his face to watch for his response.

Finally, she called to Oliver anxiously, "I don't know what's wrong! It worked before," she told him, as the Zource made a trail along Ivan's jawline. "Maybe he can't swallow it."

"Drink it. See if it affects you."

An apprehensive look crossed her features before she lifted the container. Hesitantly, she tested it with her tongue first before taking a gulp. It tasted like the water from the pixie's reservoir. "This isn't Zource."

"It's diluted." He sighed. "I should have known Zakree Zourcezerver would not grant it to me that easily."

Casey was dumbstruck, comprehending the news. She opened the neck of the pouch to see the glow of the remaining contents inside the bag. "How can it look like this, then?"

"The light is a sign of its potency. A small amount of Zource can cleanse many waters."

As she stared at Ivan, her heart thudded to her stomach. After struggling with the weight of her decision, it was cruel to find the choice to save him had never really been hers at all. Now, more than ever, she wanted to revive him. Impetuously, she declared, "We've got to make the pixies get more! There has to be some way to make them." She began to consider what could be done, wishing for some contrivance which would bring about the pixies' aid. Zyri would not help, even if she hadn't been wingtorn; and the Fleshgatherers would not listen to Oliver because he was human.

"Consider that they are the ones who have bitten him," the prince reasoned. "They will not help him, nor will they journey to the Arched Mountain for Zource for any reason beyond the tribal task of the Waterbearers. It is forbidden to possess Zource in Dreone."

"What do we do, then? He can't stay like this."

"Listen to me…" He touched her elbow.

She recoiled from him, sensing what he would say by his tone. "No! There has to be a way!" She inhaled, repeating in a whisper, "There has to be." What other solution was there? "What about the nectar? If we give him a little bit, surely it won't kill him! It made me move again. Couldn't it work?"

"It was fatal to you. You were beyond help when I gave you Zource. Do you want a violent death for him just to revive him for a time?"

Casey pursed her lips. "Use only a thistle berry full," she said, repeating Zyri's words. "I can't just sit here and do nothing!" She was reeling from her own shift in position toward helping Ivan. One minute she had been ready to let him die, the next she was willing to risk poisoning him on the small chance he would live. Aware that her determination was irrational, she left the recess where Ivan lay and proceeded through the chamber, longing for the open air. She walked around the pool at the base of the waterfall and sat down beside the pile of clothes which Ivan had used to carry his supplies. Lifting it to her lap, she pulled on the knots, abstractedly securing Ivan's sack, and noticed her socks sticking out of her sleeve. Removing them, she pressed them to her nose, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. Did she only imagine that slight smell of home? She inhaled again and took in the faint floral scent. There was a soundless groan in the pit of her stomach that traveled to her heart to rest there like a heavy weight. She hugged the damp pile of material to her and heard rock scraping against rock. Behind the waterfall Oliver was moving the outside stone to cover the opening to the cave.

"Why are you closing him in?" she asked, still lugging Ivan's bag as she approached.

"Because the pixies might betray their code and enter the cave. It is possible the ones who bit him were arrested in their deed when I found your friend. They might seek the opportunity to continue to bite him as long as he breathes." Casey shuddered as she thought about the torn places along his arm.

"We should hurry. Do you know where to find the nectar?" she asked.

The prince caught her arm possessively as she moved to ascend the slippery path to the upper level. "You cannot go from here. It isn't safe."

"Oliver-,"

"I will return with the nectar, only remain here." He pressed a piece of satithril cloth into her hand. The soft material fell away to reveal an apricot-hued fruit.

She tried to give back the food. "I'm not hungry. I'll help you find the nectar. I don't want to stay here."

"Sezo, you have been a night and two days without food."

Casey's mouth dropped slightly at the news. "_Two_ days? I was unconscious for two days?" She was thoughtful before adding, "Maybe being a nymph harbor has made me like you; maybe I don't crave food anymore."

"I told you once of an antidote for the dart of the Gread. It is a fuming, erosive solution rendering all taste unpalatable. Yet, I must sustain myself through nourishment, just as you."

She relented with the words, "Fine, I'll eat this; but I _am_ going with you." As she bit into the overripe fruit indifferently, the dragonflies perched on his shoulders rose simultaneously. She heard the charges and snaps racing through his mind as she swallowed. What was the strong reaction he was feeling?

He reached for her other hand; and she let go of Ivan's sack and her socks as he began to fold back the material to expose the illuminated skin of her previously injured wrist, explaining, "The Viliath gains its light from a purer substance than the waters of the Ebydd. Zource has healed you again. It has strengthened you, and a remnant remains so that you do not hunger. Few could bear its effects once, Sezo; but you have returned to drink of it again and again." Oliver released her arm and spoke quietly, "When you were taken from me, the dragonflies could not follow. I could not hear the rhythm of your mind. Your heartbeat faded from my hearing. I could not find you. I had little hope…" His voice trailed away.

She began to comprehend his feelings, sensing the despair that must have gripped him at her disappearance. He had told her often he wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. Since she'd returned, his behavior toward her had been guarded. The way he had conversed with her, which had made her doubt his sincerity in Kapyn's pit, now began to make more sense. To him it was as though she had come back from the dead.

"The light will go before I return. You must stay," he told her, "or I will not search for the nectar at all." His will was fixed. She would have been cowed by his tone once, but in this she was determined. She needed to do _something_.

"I don't care about the dangers, Oliver."

"I know what you feel." The prince's voice resounded in her chest, low and vibrant, and her vision clouded slightly. What was he doing? "Yet, your mind is not recovered. The rhythm is not regulated."

It was no surprise to her that she couldn't think clearly, and the strange influence he was attempting to wield only served to fluster her more. 'Is he trying to calm me down?' she thought through the endless, noisy agitations of dragonfly wings and the steady beat of his heart, which had grown louder. As she fought to reclaim her mind from his sway, a sudden thought occurred to her. 'What if he's trying to make me think he's going for the nectar when, really, he just wants to stall until Ivan dies?'

Her eyes went to Oliver's face, and she lashed out, declaring, "You always thought he would die."

The prince regarded her solemnly, and she felt the palpable influence of his mind dissipate, their enmeshed perspectives separating once again. "It is true. I do not know why he has survived. Your friend has continued here, though the pixies have not protected him. He has not been destroyed by the dragon, yet the Gnosis does not speak to him."

"You think it's his 'fate'." She shook her head. "He's stayed alive up to now. Maybe he isn't supposed to die. Maybe the nectar won't kill him. Maybe his fate is to live because - because I _need _him to." The realization hit her fully. She needed him to live! They were both trapped and wanting to return to the same place. His survival was intricately woven with her survival. Like the four-plaited braid of vines she'd worked to create for him, all along she'd been wrapping her hopes to go home around his. Though almost all of her interactions with him had been painful encounters - not like the euphoria experienced when her mind was brought to commune with Oliver's - she knew the connection to Ivan was infinitely greater.

Oliver's face registered an unchecked expression for the first time. Real emotion broke through the controlled façade. She glimpsed the surprise and pain her words had given him. "I am here. Is that nothing to you?" The jarring intensity in his voice caused a shiver to run through her. An emotion alien to Casey, like a gnawing ache, awakened. He reached to clasp her uncovered hand. She felt the surge gain speed as it blazed along her spine. What was rising in her? Was this what Oliver felt? "Will you ever need me?" His reactions were unguarded to her mind in that moment, for he was overwhelmed. He bent his face to hers, and she knew that he would overwhelm her, as well, as her eyes lost their view of him.

* * *

**A/N: I'd love to hear what you think of Oliver's reaction.**

**Iliana11: "It is exquisitely written, with well-developed characters that you're attached to, but not always in love with. (Does that make sense?...)" Yes, it does! And thank you. ****I read to chapter 15 in the second part of **_**Hunger Games**_** before the bookstore announced closing time. ****It's an easy read, but the broken sentences – which aren't really sentences – drive me berserk!** **"The need and will to survive strips us of all other (for lack of a better word) fluff, and erodes us down to our very nature, who we are in its most basic form. That's where Oliver and Ivan are really a lot alike… Casey isn't too far away from that, either." She's not far away from it at all. Her motivations have been hidden from her, and perhaps from Dfly P's readers. She'll be visiting that soon.**

**Delia Anole: "Countdown to chapter seventy, people!" Lol! Sezo – In chapter 39** **Oliver tells her, **_"Your heart is like a vein of finest sezo, bright and untarnished."_ **There is also a brief description in the note after that chapter. The idea behind sezo is you can prove it easily by touch. You can be certain when it is pure because it glows amethyst.** **"I wonder, what was Oliver feeling this whole chapter...?" Did you get a better idea of what he's feeling by the end of this chapter? You mean to say that after reading a chapter at a time over a period of months you can't remember each and every detail? I'm shocked! :)**

**Quiet Mindreader: Oliver saw the Karshra being sealed. "'…only for the door home to be closed in her face?' - This brought to mind Matthew 7:22-23." Wow. You know from our PM conversations I don't consider the portal to signify Heaven, but you've opened my eyes to a cool thought! "Or did he have previous experience with seeing a pattern in how pixies had bitten other humans?" He's had a lot of encounters with pixies; he knows what they are capable of and how their bite affects humans. So, he would have known to look for bites when trying to ascertain why Ivan wasn't conscious. Yes, it was Zifford who had Ivan's knife and rebelled against the Dfly P.** **"But she does not truly know what Ivan will do if she wakes him, and she knows that if she doesn't wake him, he will probably die. 'To him that knoweth to do good, and doeth it not, to him it is sin.'" She tried to decide whether he should live or die based on what she thought might be the outcome. The mere fact that she attempted to make that decision was presumptuous.**

**Alexa Rg: "the story is so much to take in!" You're telling me. I'm biting my nails that it will piece together correctly. My resolution for this year is to find the joy in things. There is joy in perfectionism, I'm sure of it. *shifts eyes in uncertainty* My resolution for next year will be to quit the nail-biting. :cD**

**Talk With Your Hands: "I can't wait to see how Casey handles Oliver and the closed portal, plus the (seemingly upcoming) reviving of Ivan!" Me, too. :o} Are you kinda disappointed that the Zource she gave Ivan was diluted?**


	71. The Passage Between

**A/N: A bit of a backtrack from chapter 66 for clarity:**

_Before Casey was taken by the Viliath, she was becoming disillusioned by an act in which Oliver took a Gread's life. She didn't confront him after it occurred, but showed signs of losing it. When he finds her in the woods near Kapyn's mountain, she reacts to seeing the Tsiprith talon. When she enters the cave, she is suddenly hit with a flashback of meeting the Viliath. Her brain is beginning to catch up with events and register reactions._

Chapter 71 – The Passage Between

"Oliver, why are you doing this?" Her voice sounded detached, ricocheting inside her head as she knew it did through his.

"Why?" His response rang hollowly. "Why do you think and do for him, then look to me to help you? You have him in your heart, but it is for us that I –," He stopped and took possession of her other hand, emptied when the tremor from his touch had raced through her. The nymph glove was no barrier now; she felt the sensations mimicked by his presence in her mind. The water hitting the pool nearby gave a crystal ring, the cascading droplets instantaneously dividing into trillions of tiny musical dissonances. The towering walls around her were nothing; her mind passed around every object, and her ears listened to a stillness created by a roaring multitude of rhythms and sounds. She clung to him without defense, like a lodestone to iron. His breath rushed across her face. Her lips, pressed against her clamped teeth in panic at the awareness of his uncontrolled emotion flowing through her, felt that soft current like a battering ram. The mountain shook as the heat rose from the lithic chamber; and, suddenly, his fingers released hers. He stepped back, inhaling sharply. Her sight was restored as his mind freed hers, the dispassionate expression replacing what had broken through only seconds before; but not before a look of guilt crossed his features.

Steadily, he informed her, "Kapyn has entered the mountain. I will bring you the nectar." Casey's determination was shaken by the bizarreness in his manner. He gave her one last instruction, as he took the pathway to the cavern above. "If the pixies return, conceal yourself."

She watched unhappily as he disappeared beneath the rocky projection, disoriented and unwilling to be left to wrestle with her thoughts. Nothing seemed to make sense to her; and, once Oliver was no longer in view, she wondered whether she had just imagined the look of guilt she'd seen. Yet, it lingered, an expression she had never thought him capable of showing. It was as though he knew he'd committed some wrong. That seemed an implausible thing. Did he consider anything he did to be wrong? Perhaps that had not been what the expression meant at all.

She could hardly organize her thoughts into any semblance of order, much less try to interpret what had occurred. It placed her mind in a puzzling limbo, each thought a piece which must fit somewhere, hovering and waiting to be placed and settled; but concentrating on any one idea caused her thoughts to shift and scatter, eluding her attempts to comprehend the picture.

She sat down in front of the stone behind the waterfall, relieved not to be holding vigil over the waning Ivan. What if the nectar made things worse? She couldn't think about it. 'I need him to live,' she repeated inwardly. Thoughts of his face, his expressions and actions, came frequently to mind. At first they were tender reflections, but soon they became bitter reminders as she recalled their last words to one another. Her brain, despondent before, began to collect the varied thoughts until they came at her so quickly she held her breath to take it all in. Why, they had fought all the time! The antagonism had been there from the moment Ivan had ridiculed her that first night. He had a rough way about him, and she had chafed under his bullying. Ivan's captivity in Dreone had fostered in him an incessant need to be in control. Perceiving the underlying powerlessness, she had preyed on it, questioning his every move and thought. This had been worse for her because she had needed his guidance. Yet, pridefully, she had resisted his help until he had reacted to her not only with distrust, but caustic scorn. The more worthless she had become in his eyes, the more she'd treated him with disdain until both were steadily fixated on disliking the other. The impetus to compete with him had grown in her with each encounter, and the mean, cyclical game took on an established object: the portal. While he had plotted to outwit the dragon to attain his end, she had plotted to outwit him. Now the truth was revealed to her: she would never have persisted in being admitted through an elusive portal without the rivalry with Ivan. Nor could she triumph over an opponent who lay dying. The real fight had been within her, perceiving her worth through the eyes of a fellow-survivor just as lost and frustrated as she.

The heaviness around her heart returned as she moved to pick up Ivan's sack. Settling cross-legged before Oliver's shelter once more, she untied the knots and looked into the bag to find the empty sheath of perfect paper. Where was Ivan's Glader? The light had begun to dwindle, and she heard a familiar thrumming. She covered her bare arm and hand with the cloak and hurried to find refuge in the upper chamber, placing herself behind the stalagmites which rested like columns along the hollowed passages of the mountain. Nursing her cut knee, which had grown stiffer, she stayed in the lumin-lit chambers, unsure when it would be safe to emerge again. She heard snatches of the pixies' flights, coming and going, but they did not enter the cavern.

The temperature was still rising, and the heat at her face made it difficult to breathe deeply. The dragonflies, congregating around her, made the close atmosphere more unbearable. Occasionally, she lifted her hand to fan them from view, though they were never persuaded to go far from her. She focused on them, irritated and wishing they weren't so loud. She was retreating into herself, her mind roused and intent on seeking out the missing pieces.

"_Your heart is like a vein of finest sezo, bright and untarnished…_

"_Warmth alters the finest sezo…_"

The thoughts exploded out of nowhere. Oliver called her 'Sezo' all the time. She liked it; it made her feel cherished. Was sezo the shiny-looking metal which he'd touched on the floor of Kapyn's pit, turning it a glowing pale purple? It was pretty. It also looked valuable. The fear of being of no value, made worse by her battles with Ivan, had wreaked havoc on her spirit. Far from belittling her, Oliver treated her like a priceless gift; and she had followed his lead, bolstered by his promises of something more, something better. And he had awakened a myriad of doubts within her, pointing to the red stone for the answers, having bound himself to its protection. She thought of the sezo person's crown in the picture, held aloft, and the raised, red jewel. What would it be like to possess a lovely gem like that, to display it on her head? Was that stone supposed to be the Gnosis? Oliver had said the Gnosis was too great for someone to control_. _Did the Gnosis really have the answers? Why had it closed the portal? Oliver didn't seem to know why. What else didn't he know?

The dragonflies around her began to twist and circle again. Briefly, she rejoiced when they moved away; but then she felt their excitement and closed her eyes to stay with them as they flew from her in a swarm. The flashing noises of rhythms came and went as they zoomed around the structures throughout the grotto. It was a dizzying feeling and she welcomed it; it took her mind away from its flurried ruminations. Soon she found the endless crepitations were being rehearsed, like the spiraling series of motions she had seen them performing in the forest. It was as though they were teaching one another, sharing their information through a simplistic form of telepathy. The rhythms began to fade from hearing, and she looked up to find they had gone from her, weaving in and out of distant recesses.

Casey concentrated on their connection, wondering how far they could go before she wouldn't sense them at all. If the Gnosis opened the portal again, would she be able to hear mind rhythms from home, like Oliver had heard hers? What if the portal was never opened again and her dragonflies never made their first flight home? What if she spent the rest of her days in Dreone hiding from pixies and helping Oliver watch over Kapyn and the Gnosis? She sighed unhappily, wishing he would return soon.

She was so alone suddenly. Where had the dragonflies gone? Feeling uneasy, she stood up. Listening for them, she followed the soft crackling patterns into Kapyn's lair. Holding the hood of her nymph cloak close to her face, she crept into the dragon's chamber at the stiff gait her sore knee allowed. The chamber was thick with smoke. There were small mounds of sizzling ash and flame in places now. The heat wrinkled in the chamber as she peered around the base of the high platform. She was behind the dragon as his head rested near the sealed portal, his tail toward her. She could see the soft illuminating change of the sezo tiles Oliver had uncovered, the conspicuous red jewel in the mosaic catching her eye. She thought Kapyn was sleeping until he lifted his head when the dragonflies flew around her, latching onto the sounds of her mind. He turned his long neck to cast his crimson eyes on her apathetically. She saw the figure standing before him then. The prince was in Kapyn's pit, as well. Lowering his head, the dragon snorted lethargically as he watched her. Casey didn't move, but eyed them both cautiously, a tinge of suspicion awaking.

She continued to stare after them, and Kapyn's breathing came faster. He seemed tired, but agitated. She backed away toward the shelter of the calcified columns, viewing him as he lifted himself fluidly and reared back on his haunches. She knew that routine well and sprinted for a cavity, burying her head as the heat of the flames billowed out. Choking on the fuliginous air, she stumbled along, heart pounding as she tried to put distance between her and the dragon. Was she crazy? Why had she entered when she'd known Kapyn was there? Why wasn't he sleeping? What had Oliver been doing?

"Sezo!" It came as a whisper, and she turned to see the prince coming toward her. She crawled out of the rocks. Her face held no smile of greeting.

"Did you find the nectar?" she asked, her eyes narrowed. Oliver opened his hand to reveal a wet, leafy packet and place it into her palm.

"That picture next to Kapyn," she began, even though she didn't want to ask. "That red stone is supposed to be the Gnosis, isn't it?"

He nodded. She turned away and began to walk through the cavern, considering the questions which lingered in her mind. She was filled with an apprehensive concern that she knew the answers, and they would not be what she wanted to hear. She faced him again at the side of the stream. "What happens if Kapyn dies and the portal is still sealed?"

"The portal is bound to the Gnosis, not Kapyn."

"But what happens if Kapyn dies? Will the Gnosis-,"

He halted as she stepped toward the lower level. "Go. Give the nectar to Ivan."

She drew toward him, whispering, "Oliver, am I the sezo person?" Her voice held every ounce of the anxiety she felt.

"You asked me once about Axioni, and I told you of its endlessness. It is the passage between Axioni and your home which is the realm of the Gnosis. That is why you were brought here, why every human has been brought here. The Knowing has been searching for the heart of sezo, and opened the Karshra of Dreohan to find it – to find _you_."

She swallowed, studying his luminous eyes. "Oliver, I told you, if you helped me get home, I wasn't coming back. Is that why the Gnosis is trying to stop me?"

He shook his head. "The Gnosis will not prevent you from returning." There was something about his expression that kept her from asking how he knew.

"What about Ivan? He needs to go home, too." She saw he meant to dismiss her question and tried again. "You were talking to the Gnosis, weren't you?"

He gave a slight smile. "No one talks to the Gnosis. The Gnosis alone speaks."

"What did it tell you?" When Oliver hesitated, she pressed, "It told you something about Ivan, didn't it? Did it tell you the nectar is going to work?"

"The Knowing does not tell the future. If you wish to know whether the nectar will work, give it to your friend." He motioned for her to go, and she thought briefly of the look of guilt that had been on his face earlier. He seemed more satisfied. He knew something. Why wouldn't he tell her?

The lumins gave light to her way as she returned to the stone behind the waterfall. It was only when she was centimeters from Oliver's dwelling she saw the rock had been pushed back. The first thought that came to her was of the pixies. Had they found a way to get to him? She slid through the opening and ran to the hollow quickly, gritting her teeth at the tenderness of her knee. What she saw took a second and third glance. Ivan was gone. Nothing was in the hammock but the container she'd used to give him Zource, and it fell to the floor with an empty thump as she shifted the pelt. Even though she knew the area was too small to hide him anywhere, she made a complete circle, searching every cranny. Her hand went to the shelf in the wall. It was empty. She bent painfully to the floor, feeling where the shadows would not allow her to see. The knife and Oliver's bag of Zource weren't there. She rose and searched the larger room, finding Gread darts in one niche along with berries and nuts. There was a large satithril cloth, and a long staff which rested in a corner with a sharp metal point; but there was no knife or Zource.

Her mind closed on the only alternative she could grasp, and she stepped from behind the waterfall, calling Oliver's name. When he didn't respond, her brows lowered in uneasiness. She flung the parcel of nectar on the ground in exasperation. Why hadn't she stayed there and kept the pixies from stealing him? How had they carried him off?

"Oliver! He's gone! Ivan's gone!" She teetered, limping across the jutting stones that would prevent her from slipping, as she made her way to the inner cavern.

"Casey." She heard the voice and halted, disbelieving.

"Ivan?" Her knee opposed the acceleration of her climb; but she didn't heed it. Under the rock divide she appeared and saw the figure concealed by dragonskin and shadows. In his hand was his knife.

* * *

**A/N: I never can seem to kill him, can I?**

**Healed535: "It almost seems like she has been willfully ignorant of his feelings this whole time." I think you're right. And he's helped her to stay ignorant, since he has kept his passion in check. Wonder why. "I feel like she and Ivan have an abusive relationship." Hm. He does have a bad temper. After this chapter, do you think she seems to have relished the idea of conquering him? "But she needs to check her reactions and feelings for him, because I feel like they are very irrational." I agree. She's been duping herself, not even comprehending her own motivations. Come to think of it, choosing to be willfully ignorant is irrational, too. We all like to put a rosy hue to what we want to do, regardless of whether it's rational or right. I always look forward to your analyses of the Casey/Ivan & Casey/Oliver interactions!**

**Quiet Mindreader: Nope. Lol. No pockets in nymph cloaks. (Zource) "Did he think it might harm her?" Yes. At that point, he didn't know enough about her, nor does he trust Zource. "Ah, so the Zource comes from the Arched Mountain!" The mountain is mentioned in chapter 10, though its relevance there was unclear. It is the place Oliver met Zakree and obtained Zource.** **"Or are they forbidden from entering all caves?" They do not go into caves unless they are inscribed like their dwellings. This and their rules against having Zource are both pixie code. You are the best for helping me consider how things piece together in this story, you know that?**

**Triva: "Your characters are symbolic in themselves, but at the same time they are so painfully, gorgeously human..." Wow. I don't know what to say… It makes me feel awesome that you can relate to their humanness. Thank you.**


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